


Desideratum (S/H)

by anexartita



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 進撃の巨人 | Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Femdom, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Inferiority Complex, Intense Hate, Kinks, Masochism, Minor Character Death, Music Creation, Near Death Experiences, Rape Fantasy, Rivalry, Sadism, Total Power Exchange, [ MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED AS THE STORY PROGRESSES! ], but also ever so slightly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anexartita/pseuds/anexartita
Summary: Word has it that he's more clement with those of similar origins.Wordalsohas it that you know that that's absolute and utter bullshit.Levi. A man who seems to resent the world, determined to ruin the lives of those who oppose him or those he disapproves of. It just so happens that you are on that list, somewhere, and escaping Humanity Strongest's disdain is a hard task that you're not entirely sure you want to complete.With akin pasts and tongues sharp as the blades you wield, it's inevitable that the two of you clash on more than one instance; what starts out as mere distrust between strangers, escalates to something greater with seemingly no chances of future concord.





	1. Moiety

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑒, 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼; 𝐼'𝑚 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒.  
𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒕𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦."

* * *

* * *

When was the last time you had been a woman?

No. If you are going to be inquisitive, you had to be asking the right questions from the get-go.

Have you _ever_ had the chance to be a real woman?

Growing up in the Underground, there is no time to flourish or live an idyllic life; _"what are girls made of?"_ is not a question that you have time to wonder about since the red strings of fate are torn mercilessly at the hands of those who control it all, and any hope of a normal life is most often than not just a hope shattered to smithereens from a very young age and onward. So no, you've never had the chance to be a real woman and indulge in things that are feminine of nature, something that for others might come as something incredibly natural.

As such, growing up in the Underground means survival of the fittest, no questions asked, and much fewer objections instead. It's almost primal, brutal. Women, men? Adults, children? There is hardly a difference made between them, death comes for all no matter how nasty and those who aren't prepared will meet their end before it's really due; what counts is whatever skill you excel in the most, the key to making a living regardless of what path you choose to follow so that you can keep your head above water, just enough to breathe. Whatever you find out you're good at, no matter how morally grey, you exploit it until the day you die even if other people fall along the way because of you. A lawless regime that leaves the choice to resort to criminal activities by the back doors of pubs, in cast-off alleyways, as words are no louder than a mere whisper. It's fairly easy to fall down the spiral of something so dark.

Organised crime thrives intensely in the Underground, although it is hardly apparent at first glance, resulting it to go mostly unsupervised by the Military Police who occasionally pay visits. But it's not really ever for actual control, just selfish desires of their own that can otherwise not be fulfilled within the Holy Walls. The forbidden pleasures that they want to indulge in so badly, away from the peering eyes of their superiors.

Brothels, whorehouses, escorts, blackmailing, and even becoming the concubines of those with power above ground... those are the prominent professions that the women resort to most often, the professions that bring corrupt members of the military here, or as you call it: _**the easy way out**_. That, or they become housewives to endure the scorn of their husbands, but nobody meets a happy ending like that whether they pick one or the other, which is almost a shame considering how many women actually have potential to become criminal masterminds.

Very few seek differently regardless, deluding themselves into being "happy" that way and enduring a shit life until they die when they do. 

Men take the "hard" route: hitmen, murderers — for pain or pleasure, it doesn't matter —, loan sharks, drug dealers. They strive to become the "boss", the "ruler" of the underground by climbing up a hierarchy that will never allow them to benefit or so much come high enough to touch that elusive glory they all dream about in the first place. It makes you sick to think about. Not because they're men, but because most of them are willing to slaughter their own family for it even if it means just having a droplet, a sample of a taste of what that feels like.

 _Truly_ repulsive, you think. Not that your morals are any damn _**better**_ , but judgment has no preferences either.

Come what may, you face it head on with no fears as you remain unbreakable in front of those who oppose you simply because of difference in experience. You yourself have resorted to petty thieving, commodious deals, and domineering threats which all have been wonderfully beneficial up until now. Your biggest accomplishment so far was the trade you made with the very illicit Military Police. They wanted money to pay for their disgusting activities, in exchange for contrivances and contraband that would earn you a sufficient sum to compensate what you lost once you sold it to the citizenry of your origin. And it did, to the point where there's been a time where even you lived more or less comfortably for about a year. Good times.

And although you've been promised to never be peached on, you know better than to trust empty words coming from somebody's mouth. Even more when it's someone you don't even know aside from two or three meetings. Humans are animals made of avarice and would bring down their own kind even in death, you know that all too well.

* * *

This mentality has come to be part of you from the practice of vouching for yourself your entire damn life and nothing else. Your mother? No _fucking_ clue, she might be dead for all you know. Your father? Who knows? For as long as you can remember, you have been surviving by yourself to the best of your abilities, and not to toot your own horn, you've done a pretty good job so far. You aren't dead if that's anything to go by. Truly a tragic life to be written about. Boo hoo.

Frailty and a generally feeble body come as a consequence of lack of sunlight, malnourishment, and other luxurious life circumstances that living on the surface, known as Mitras, allowed. It is adequate for your upbringing, so you can't complain much given you're still standing and walking just fine. But agility, speed, and technique are a natural given, polished adroitness finessed over the years. And the stolen device resting upon your hips? Well, you decide to not think about it too much, they probably wouldn't miss a couple or twenty, let's be fucking real. There's a plethora of these in the world up there, at the zenith of their performance whilst yours needed some taking care of. Or a replacement, really. The belts are so worn that some of them threaten to crack under the slightest pressure, and you're sure that one of these days you'll land yourself a smack against a building.

However, your clothes aren't exactly fit... _**Actually**_ , they're nowhere near being fucking decent to be wearing 3DMG. Torn rags you found somewhere when you were fifteen or so, and forward some years later they still fit your dangerously skinny physique. Yet the biting pain of the leather strapped around the exposed areas of your body has become the only sense of comfort for you ever since you obtained the machinery. It gives you a sense of power, security, and pride, albeit no longer being the only one around to operate it, but you have been the first one to obtain it. That fact remains unchanged and known around the streets, which is why everyone turns to you when they desire to acquire one.

You remember the first week with it, it was nothing short of hellish, unaccustomed to the tight strapping as you were left to your own wits on how to figure out the god damn contraptions that are the belts. It didn't come with a manual either, so. Bruises upon bruises bloomed along your otherwise nearly unmarred skin, angry red marks welting where you thought it had been strapped too tight (no, it hadn't - you figured _that_ out when you actually flung out of the harness not two days later after allowing yourself to slack the belts. Needless to say: lesson fucking learned).

And actually _managing_ it? Hah. It took you a month and a fucking half, that damned thing. Balance is everything and when your pivoting point is on a different place than where the gear suggests that it is, it takes a while to get used to rewiring this knowledge in your brain and let your body adapt to it.

But now? Now you are the rising star of the Underground. Not a hero, not a villain, but perhaps something in between that's plenty deserving of undivided attention. A distinct admiration from those that are beneath your feet when you rise high in the air is what fuels your purpose because growing up without love, affection, and support makes you seek validation in the masses. Hardly individuals; no, no, the approval of a single person isn't worth _**shit**_. People's opinions are fleeting lies and there's no need for you to waste time on that.

Trust nobody, not even your own fucking shadow. No sane person does anything for free, without expecting a reward or compensation of sorts. Neither do the insane.

* * *

"Target located, status unknown. Ready yourselves for a chase, and potential combat," a distant voice calls, sonorous and rich, almost soothing for the soul. "Yes, sir!" The reply is immediate, in a perfect choir, and as if rehearsed over and over and over again. What atypical manner of conduct in the Underground. Are you dreaming? You seldom do that these da—

**Wait—**

Your eyes snap open, any listlessness remaining in your veins is instantaneously exterminated by the adrenaline that overcomes you, and as the 3DMG whirrs to life, it takes you less than half a second to drive the anchors into the bricks of the bridge you're under, slinging yourself as far up into the air as you can, cables tensing and loosening as you release them for the next pull. Hues dart all over to uncover the matter at hand. And it's so much worse than you anticipated.

Fuck, _fuck_ , _**fuck**_ , those motherfuckers found you, and now you need to make it out alive to find the cunt that ratted you out in the first fucking place! **Brilliant!** You see, being chased by the fucking Survey Corps wasn't exactly in your afternoon plans, no. In fact, you thought of yourself done for the day with plenty of food and other goods carefully stacked away not too far from you as you considered yourself safe and away from danger. But you'll be damned, now you have a pair of "freedom fighters", good-for-nothing nutjobs riding your hypothetical dick and your amusement is nowhere to be found.

Surprising, right?

 _Bastard_ , you condemn whoever reported your illegalities, more specific, the unauthorised use of the 3DMG, to the cunts on the surface. You have half a mind to note that it's probably the three sitting by the staircase that gives entrance to the world within the Walls, or the military merchants that got you the plaything, to begin with. Either way, they will feel ire and meet their unceremonious end caused by your very own hands once you're done with these... these fucking **ducks** , truly. You don't have another name for the Scouting Legion, not when they offer themselves to the titans willingly under the farce that they want to gain "knowledge".

Taking as little time as you can to asses the situation, you scan your surroundings when you're way out from your original starting point. You determine the following details: they're not only after your contrivance but after you just as much, harmed or unharmed and possibly, preferably alive. The dexterity and precision in their movements give away that while they're mostly, undoubtedly skilled, not all of them are elites so chances of making an escapade aren't as grim as you initially thought them to be — there's possibly only one or two of such rank, which has you aiming to find a gap in the formation that'll allow you to seamlessly lose yourself in the streets and out of their sight later. Lastly, there are two to your direct right and left, three behind you, and one below you.

No time to think. You allow yourself to come to an abrupt halt above what can be called no less than your hunters and plunge yourself into the abysmal darkness below you. Estimating the altitude you're in and the speed of your fall, your fingers pull the triggers once you've fallen approximately three metres down, and the cables once again whizz beside you as you set off to a more congested part of town. You have only so much time to get away; in less than a minute, what you presume is the leader of the squad is once again hot on your heels. It irks you, how well they seem to know the layout of the underground. Those who are from within the consecrated walls should barely have knowledge of anything but their own fucking area. So, the questions that beg to be asked: who and how?

You curse under your breath as you will your train of thought to halt at once, having no time to speculate; tilting your torso upwards as you pull yourself farther up along the taller buildings in the hopes of successfully accomplishing your next plan. Catching momentum, you allow the anchors to release as you flip your body backwards and over the soaring Survey Corps member, subsequently landing on your feet on a roof. You stumble down to the floor, the physical demand required to manage a 3DMG taking a toll on your underprepared body. You feel like you're about to wheeze your lungs right out of your ribcage, and that really isn't a good thing considering you have to keep up if you want to remain where you are.

There's never been the necessity for you to make use of it for extended periods of time like this, let alone to get the fuck away from some holier-than-thou, law-abiding freaks. Escaping has to happen now or fucking never, and you decided to do it by foot as you run into the darkest parts of the city, a blade secured in one of the belts around your right thigh in case of emergency.

Alas. Calculations aside, your intuition has failed you _miserably_ , and within the next few seconds, your brain has no time to process what happens as your face collides with the cold, dirty, muddy ground and the weight of somebody else's body rests upon yours, successfully restraining you. A soft grunt leaves your lips, and you try to look over your shoulder to catch a glance of the fucker that put you in cuffs but they force you to look towards the side for the moment being, and there you see the darlings of your life standing, frightened. The children you so dearly behold, ones of the same as you.

If leather bites at the skin, you come to the realisation and final conclusion that metal is even worse. It hurts like hell and you try not to move your hands too much so that the metal stops hitting against the bones of your fucking wrists. Yanked by the hair to a sitting position on your knees, you suppress the shriek that threatens to arise from your throat, and the rancour and odium glinting in your hues once you're facing your raptor are almost enough to rival the indifference and disdain you encounter in the squad captain's slate blue ones. A real monster, with no sense of sympathy whatsoever as he stares you down.

" _ **Tch.**_ You put up more of a fucking fight than I expected, maggot."

You take no offence to those words, honest. If you pride yourself in something, it's the fact that no matter what pinch you're in, you'll fight until you no longer can, and then some for good measure.

There's no need for introductions. You know exactly who's standing in your line of sight, that midget is hard to mistake even if this is really the first time you've seen him. Rumours, legends, and stories about him make it even to these filthy places, you're not surprised when they all inflate the grandeur of his unrivalled skills and abilities. And based on those alone, factual or not, you're intelligent enough to know that it is mind-blowingly pointless to run your mouth and bark at him like a dog. Absolute compliance in these circumstances is more beneficial than resistance, so that's what you go with.

You want to save your skin, not be turned into filet-mignon for the Titans to enjoy at a later date.

Nevertheless, you resort to scanning and remembering every single face that accompanies the _mighty_ captain, resentment filling your being as you inwardly swear to yourself to make them remember who they laid their crummy hands on. A strawberry blonde chick with short hair, an ashy blond male of relative height, a brown-haired male with tanned skin, and finally, a tall blond who seems too boring to remember. You know that whenever the time may arrive, you would start with the raven and work your way down the squad.

"Confirm her identity, disarm her, disassemble and confiscate her manoeuvre gear. I'll lay out her fate," he declares, taking a crouching position right before you. "From today on, you become the property of the Military Police, captured by the Survey Corps' Special Operations Squad, sentenced to imprisonment without chances of liberation, within the Walls. Charged for multiple felons including the direct involvement of the illegal smuggling of military equipment from the surface to the Underground and the illegal reselling and distribution of the aforementioned. That's the official statement. My personal own is that I hope you fucking rot where you're locked up."

He rises to his feet, condescending gaze not lingering for longer than a second before he turns to his comrades. And the last thing you remember before being consumed by pitch blackness is his magisterial stride as he withdraws from your sight, and the dull pain on the back of your skull.


	2. Prospect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm.
> 
> Sur... prise?
> 
> In honour of me finishing my print project (minus 8/20 technical flats that I just couldn't get to) today, and the only thing left of it is a 5-minute presentation tomorrow! That said, this chapter is a little more slow-paced than the other, and I've resorted to using less prose-y language. I think more people would enjoy it that way.

"𝐴 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘,  
𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑙ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒.  
𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠,  
𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡?"

* * *

* * *

The sound of water droplets dripping slowly into what is possibly a puddle is the first thing you hear when you wake from your pitless slumber, but you cannot bring yourself to open your eyes since you already know what sight will greet you. A rather unpleasant one, not much better than the one your mind made you recall. Just your luck, really.

As you turn over to lay on your side, a faint, clinking sound ricochets off of the wall — the corners of your lips tug into a smile barely there. What an ugly event to remember, that is.

* * *

Locked up and chained, like a neglected _dog_. Let out once in a while under surveillance to get your daily dose of fresh air before you return to the humid, stuffy, and suffocating, cavernous dungeon only to be served a meal a day. Needless to mention, it's not haute cuisine and sometimes, it looks a strange lot like the mould growing between the bricks of your confines. It makes your inside churn but you know that that's better than nothing, and if you have to be honest, it doesn't taste bad as it actually looks.

You find it comical, how the world on the surface is almost the same as the world underground, but with less freedom of movement.

How long have you been here? It's hard to determine, you find. Day and night are nearly indistinguishable when you're stuck in a rotting cave for twenty-three and a half hours of the day.

Hours, minutes, and seconds fade in and out of existence just like that. Even if you're guarded by two men, who were unknown at first, but now you've learned them to be Elias Lehmann, 18, and Dana Heidrich, 20. Military Police officers of low-rank, nothing but peons. You want to pity them, living their lives in such manner that when they die, they will have accomplished nothing, but in your current situation, you can barely judge them. Your own time has now less value than theirs. In just two days time back then you've gone from being a woman of prestige to nothing but a lowlife prisoner to the monarchy of the Walls, and now you've been here for as long as you can remember.

Your circumstances aren't exactly humane either, but in terms of convenience, an upgrade from your life in the underground. You don't have to worry when or what you'll eat next, if at all. You just have to worry about an easy way to get past the Military Police and defend yourself well enough in court that they lessen your sentence, even if it's only by a couple of years or so. However, the lack of visitors and conversation had almost driven you up the rotten walls, to the point where you felt your brain malfunction if you tried too hard to think about things.

So as you lay in your bed, wrists heavy with metal cuffs that bind you to the ceiling, you begin deducing your future slowly; a much better approach with the information that you have. Which is, frankly, not much but just enough to come up with some sort of... escapade plan. It has to be impeccably timed because when they come for you, you know the courtroom is outside in one of the main buildings. When that time comes around, you need to be able to flee like you're guilty of a brutal murder. You sure as hell aren't planning to spend the rest of your sorry life in this dungeon, so first and foremost:

This is possibly the presumption that you have the least amount of solid information on, but nonetheless, it's still valuable to some degree. As is, your trial hasn't happened yet, and by eavesdropping on senior members of the Military Police that talk carelessly in the echoing halls of this underground passage throughout the duration of your captivity, you know that it might not actually happen anytime soon since they haven't gathered _all_ of the information and testimonies necessary in behalf of the MPs. Which means that between now and that very specific date, an air of uncertainty and inconclusiveness will linger when it comes to your very existence.

Second, you've come to know that the guards are switched every month, twice a day: one for the day, and the other two for the night, almost like working shifts. You don't know how long the very first two pairs in charge of you had been here prior to your imprisonment, but the second, third, and fourth set have had intervals of the same length - a month, you concluded. Which leads you to believe this is done to maintain confidentiality, and avoid the risk of getting too friendly and substantially sabotaging the Military Police Brigade's plans of keeping you locked up for the rest of your life. What this also means is that you've been in captivity for about four months and two weeks.

Lastly, the only "confirmation" on the fact that the MP will seize you entirely has come from Corporal Levi. And that had been on that fateful day in the underground, so it's not really set in stone. So far, there have been no Police Lieutenants or even Sergeants to confirm that you're under official and permanent custody of the MP.

It makes you wonder if there's a possibility that you could be placed under the responsibility of the Survey Corps or the Garrison if they can't come to a compromise, or moreover if they can't actually prove that you've partaken in the trading. You speculate that, despite the requirements for the stationary troops being laxer than those for the scouting legion, the chances of you being put with the latter seems more likely, if at all, considering they have been the ones that detained you in the first place.

That being concluded, you ponder over a _proper_ , primary step to take. If you want to gain information on the circumstances of your case, the only way right now is for you to acquaint yourself with Dana and Elias. Based on their short, cryptic conversations whenever in your presence, Elias is less frigid but more secretive than Dana. However, as distant and quiet as Dana is, he's much more compliant and sympathetic.

Not to mention, you've overheard their curiosity towards life below the surface and you know you've got plenty of stories to lure them in. If you're going to befriend them, you'll need to play the part of both being and feeling contrite, as well be convincing enough to make them think that you want to atone for your misdeeds. With your personality? Not an easy feat, but giving up isn't what got you your early glory.

A grand bonus is also that they're both men, both adolescent. Your underground garments had disappeared by the time you woke up when you had been thrown in here, now sporting a knee-length, plain white shirt... dress with your information embroidered on the back of the mandarin collar. It's hard to decipher what type of garment it really is, aside it from looking like a hospital gown. Although wide and probably what most women your age would consider "unflattering", you know how to make it work in your advantage. After all, prostitutes are the common folk of the underground and you've learned a thing or two.

Three weeks. Three weeks is all you have, or you'll have to start from zero once again. Which is too risky since they might spot a pattern.

* * *

You take a deep breath, and you finally decide to open your eyes as sleepiness has completely worn off. You sit up, and the same clinking of earlier resonates once more but this instance, it makes the two young men aware of your wake. They spare you a glance each and putting up your most neutral face, you sit on the edge of the bed as you stare down at the floor and swallow thickly.

"Can I have a glass of water?" Your tone is calm, almost serene as you face them, eyes darting between the blond and the redhead. "I think... I think because of how humid it is in here, my throat is starting to feel strange whenever I wake up." Cue a little scrunch of the nose, and a tender rub of your throat with the tips of your fingers for good measure. From now on, you're a top-tier actress.

And sure enough, although reluctant, Elias leaves to fetch you a glass of water. Knowing that this will take approximately seven minutes, you swing your legs as you hum a nameless song. You can tell that Dana is listening, even if he's stood there stiffly with his back facing you. Digits manipulate the white sheet you sleep under as you take your eyes off of Dana, and as a minute passes, you start talking.

"I don't know if it's because I'm so unused to living on the surface that my body can't handle the change no matter how much time passes. Such as.. air quality and density, humidity levels, and even UV levels... But it's becoming so hard to simply be. I feel fatigued."

No, you don't expect a response. You're initiating a one-way conversation. Simple tales and trivia about your life that will cause him to become more and more inquisitive about your origins, purpose and reasons as the hours tick by each day he spends with you. More, and more, and would it be necessary, you can resort to less... formidable ways of getting information. Even if you've sworn that you'd do it with a man you can tolerate, assuming that the situation is really that dire.

"It should be making my body better, right? You look so healthy! Yet, that doesn't seem to be the case at all. Is there somethin' wrong with me? I wonder. When I'm sentenced for life, I think they'll get to punish me longer if they put me back in the hole that I came from... or maybe let me exercise since that used to be a big part of my life, too. I'unno."

Heaving a sigh, you dramatically drop yourself back on your bed. In the back of your head, you know there's about two and a half minutes left before Elias returns. You start again, forcing a pitiful chuckle to fall from your lips, "ah."

"I'm sorry. It ain't like you care much for my rambles. I guess the endless lack of human contact and speech has **really** driven me insane. Supposing that I could have some visitors, it probably wouldn't be that bad, right? Although..."

Silence.

1\. _2._ **3.**

"It's not like anybody would come."

"Everybody has someone waiting for them," he answers, briefly looking at you over his shoulder and you hold the feigned surprise and glimmering hope in your eyes until he turns away.

Fucking _bingo_ , and even better is when moments later Elias returns with a glass of water as you anticipated. Resuming your sitting position before standing up, Elias hands you the glass of water and you mutter your gratitude almost docile as you drink it in one go. But your mind hasn't stopped, now that Dana was pretty much in the basket, the only one who needed to get in is Elias. Your gut instinct is telling you not to meddle further, knowing the two of them will mingle and talk together after their shift. And Dana is inexorably going to open his mouth about your little chitchatting parade earlier. It might not catch Elias' interest yet but surely his curiosity will be piqued.

Nightfall comes and they leave to be replaced by the others, of which you have no interest in. What matters to you now is being able to get under the skin of the younger ones, also because they have a higher probability of being in contact with the higher ups. Orders and all.

* * *

Settling for calling it a night after some hours of doing nothing as per usual, despite having no will to sleep, you start to get comfortable on the hard mattress but as the officers take the position by the bars of your cell, you're called for and you hear a multitude of foreign footsteps follow suit. For the sake of pride, you don't bother looking up or even budging from your spot, simply acknowledging whoever with a half-assed hum.

"Oi."

That sonorous voice. It makes your fingers twitch in irritation but the imperative tone of voice is one not to be defied, so you sit up and face Corporal outside the bars, but today, he's by himself if excluding the two, what you can only really guess are, subordinates by his side.

But what the fuck is this _oi_ business all about? You have a name. Can't he fucking use it?

And that's when you realise that this is the second time you've actually seen him. He looks... somehow less violent and brazen than your last encounter, like a dormant beast in lieu of a bloodthirsty animal. You don't mind, at least he's not ready to bite your head off right now. _Shudder._

He's completely unarmed, the only thing draping his body that indicates readiness being the harness that otherwise holds the 3DMG. Nothing else, just his uniform. It's _dangerously_ serene, you find. Regardless, he's not to be swayed, so you're not even going to attempt to hike up your little prisoner uniform. Much less when your death sentence is standing no more than a couple of metres away from you.

"After a lot of debate, your trial has been postponed indefinitely, if not cancelled. Someone got the word out about your... skill set, and Captain Erwin demanded a different trial. Took him a while but here we are weeks later. As the Survey Corps has a history of mass-loss and fatalities, recruiting new members is always open so for the sake of saving coin, they let it happen. However, given your circumstances, you'll only be allowed to showcase your abilities with the manoeuvre gear under strict surveillance of the Special Operations Squad - you're familiar with us. You've got no choice in the matter, so even if you don't want to, we'll force you out of here. Zoë Hange is going to be responsible for your training, aside from Keith Shadis in regular training once we've deemed you good enough."

Uh. Excuse you, _ **what**_? Are you hearing this correctly? Not that you're complaining, you'd take the fucking chance with both hands and hold onto it like a child with a newfound obsession but this means that your original plan to get close to the guards has been sped up by... quite a lot. To the point where you can tick it off as done. Your mind begins calculating as it does, you haven't uttered a word yet but unless incited by anger, it's hard to get you talking. You simply nod, albeit with obvious hesitance. He continues.

"With that out of the way," he slams his hand against the metal bars, leaning in as a vicious glint lingers in his navy hues, "don't expect special treatment. I don't trust you, or the pigs one damn bit, and if you think I won't break your bones and take pleasure in it, you're dead wrong. Fix your shitty personality, and follow orders nice and quietly, yeah?"

That's just _asking_ to be obliterated; the anger in your boils.

"How about **you** fix ya damn ugly personality first before trying to come for others' issues, though? 'Cause y'seem to have a lot of pent up issues in that small body of yours." You deadpan, staring him dead in the eye. It's no secret that you absolutely, most definitely hate this man and it's ridiculous how much you struggle not to let your anger take you over whenever you listen to him. "I ain't listening to the fucker who had one of his marionettes throw me into the fucking floor and knock me out cold like I wasn't just gonna give up the struggle. 'Cause yanno, five against one... not in my advantage. Send someone else if ya want me to join your god damn high school club activities."

The other cadets look fucking _horrified_ , after all, this is Levi that you're using your word against, but you're not about to take any of his shit even if it puts you in your grave. No, sir. Either they send in someone else, or you're staying in these shackles.

Alas, as resolute as you can get, that instantly dissolves into nothingness as the Corporal and two of his subordinates enter the cage you're in and all of the sudden, you might, maybe, most definitely have a couple of regrets.

"Seize her, make sure she's presentable, and bring her to the office. I don't have time to be arguing with a fucking maggot."

And those are the last words you hear coming from the Corporal before you're forcefully unchained and dragged. It takes all your power in your worn out body to struggle against the tall cadets trudging with you behind Corporal Levi, the smaller handcuffs rattling as you squirm. 

This man. This _fucking man_ , you want to slit his neck. Enough did you have with the humiliation suffered at the hands of the citizens of the underground, you did not have the necessity for a fucking snob with a self-fulfilling prophecy impending to degrade you further.

You want to spit venom at him.

And despite the chaos in your head and the so very many ways that you think of that have his lifeless corpse as a result, your retaliation only lasts for so long, the otherwise neutral atmosphere turning heavy, instantly stilling you. It can wait, you think, irrationality. Your breathing is uneven. This man, you will exterminate him, but right now, you needed to be trained into absolute obedience.

And then you realise, how terrifying and fear-instilling it can be, the _power_ he holds if his mere silence can override your resentment.


	3. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me 3 days to put together- THE STRUGGLE! Slowly, the other characters are going to be introduced.

"𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙,  
𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒.  
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑛,  
𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠."

* * *

* * *

You have been assigned a room in the senior women's barracks, and even though it's clearly a room for _four_ people, you're by yourself. They deem you too dangerous to be around anybody that's not a superior or has a respectable rank just yet. On "your" bed lays the military uniform, and you stare at it for longer than necessary but refuse to give it too much thought. You strip yourself from the white cloth and slowly work your way into the uniform. Jeans first, followed by a white, button-up shirt, and socks. You decide to leave the jacket and boots for later, the harness needs to come on first.

Lack of practice for four and a half months slows your process of getting into the contraption down but once it's on, it's not coming off anytime soon. Slipping your feet into the brown boots, and shrugging the last piece of garment on, you stop for a minute. You bask in the feeling of...? What is it exactly that you feel, you wonder. 

It's a large number of things altogether, that much is evident to you. Glee, since this is your first time wearing anything that's proper and neat, not torn and dirty. You feel formal and respectable, but at the same time, you feel like a bird whose wings have been tied. Wearing a uniform means yielding to conformity and accepting obedience, and you want to know if this is really worth it? Is this what your life thus far has amounted to? Numerous plans of escaping that you carefully constructed in your head, the self-taught handling of the 3DMG, lawless and continuous training with weapons for you to master the art of destruction may it come necessary, the effortless reading of people that now comes as second nature.

The entirety of it for you to... become _this_? What even is it, really?

You shake your head. No, no. You will not be subdued by the Military into another mindless peon, you're the king of the chess board and victory _will_ come to you through your pawns. You just need to be patient and comply for as long as you need. This life, however it may come to fruition, is only temporary. Allowing yourself to become compliant, sooner rather than later, so that you gain a place in the legion that will lead you back to your place of origin once they've gotten out of you what they want.

Pushing your thoughts aside always, your posture leaves much to be desired but you make way through the wooden door of your confine as you announce to the guards that you're ready to be lead into the surely very urgent meeting with said Erwin individual.

* * *

Turns out, Erwin Smith is _quite_ the looker (you might even have a gentle crush-at-first-sight, the men in the underground pale in comparison to him), and Zoë Hange isn't anything short of good-looking herself. The only eyesore between the three is the shortie known as Levi, really. You refuse to acknowledge anything of him as anywhere near half fucking decent even if it kills you, come what may! In the meantime, you'll enjoy the eye candy that are the blond man and the gorgeous redhead.

You rapidly learn that Erwin Smith is the Captain and head of the Survey Corps, the one who gives out orders to even the people most low-ranked. A kind man with questionable morals and war tactics, but undisputedly determined to restore humanity and retake the territory lost to the man-eating beasts. Respectable. 

A man with his golden heart in the right place regardless of his authoritarian position and demanding words. Charming but calculated, you know that you ought to be careful around him nonetheless. Despite his celestial looks, virtuous smile, and gentle words, you know that he sees right through you as if you are transparent sheet.

Zoë Hange is one out of four Squad Leaders, or in your terms, a Major. She's slightly eccentric and initially strikes off as borderline deranged, and a titan fucker in its purest form but the woman is really just genius. Her intellect and skill make up for her careless and rash decisions, in and out of the battlefield. Known for wanting to capture a titan to learn more about them, she's essentially the key to growing knowledge about titans and bringing humankind, slowly but surely, closer to victory. Major Hange also holds the key to various, so very useful maps that would lead your way out of the surface.

You don't exactly have to say much for yourself aside from your name, age, birthplace, and the snide side note that your time in prison has been nothing but a waste if this was going to be the unavoidable outcome from the beginning. It earns you a chuckle from the blond captain and a full-blown laugh from the scientist, but Levi's awfully serious demeanour doesn't falter. What a fucking killjoy, but all right, nothing to be done about it, you suppose.

"I genuinely don't see what's so funny," you comment despite the small feeling of triumph of having made them laugh, "much less when those past four months have caused my dexterity and well-being to corrode due to lack of so many things that coulda made me more useful to you bunch, but y'all know better, yeah? None of my business."

Erwin clears his throat. "You have a point, but this is why intense, compressed training has been specially prepared for you. Recruiting is not happening right now so Shadis can put his full attention on you, and Hange can reinforce the knowledge after each session. So you'll gain it all back, we're not even worried about that."

* * *

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly; it's as short and concise as they can make it be. Good, because you didn't want to be stuck with _him_ longer than necessary, and you don't think that that's ever going to really change. He might be quiet now, but his godforsaken attitude when he gets a chance alone is absolutely despicable and you wanna avoid that like the fucking plague.

They explain to you the plans for the following few weeks, and the blond man takes the initiative to explain to you the primary reason for your "freedom": they found out that the negotiation for 3DMG shipped and delivered to the underground was initiated by members of the Military Police, as opposed to their initial belief that it was you, and those involved, that demanded for it first. With this, the blame shifted and charges against you have now been pressed and treated differently, thus leaving Erwin room to negotiate about it.

While you're not entirely guilt-free, he explains that the obvious _"no chances of liberation"_ declaration has been lifted off and is actually no longer considered since your other crimes aren't the responsibility of the MP on the surface. Thus it has allowed him to take supervision and conduct over you after much back and forth with the judge. But something irks you, and it makes your skin crawl. So you speak up to make sure that you're treated accordingly.

"Yeah, that's true 'n all but you're just gonna blindly take me in? For sure, you've heard chit chat about what I can and can't do but what makes you think I'll not pop off and out as soon as I can? What makes you think I'll give my skills to you, or that I'll fit within your regime anyway? Plus. Supervisory responsibility of the Survey Corps can only restrain what y'all have come to know as an underground criminal so much, am I wrong? Y'all already got a shit image, ain't taking a criminal in just gonna put y'all in an altercation with the general public... **again**?" Your eyebrow arches, weight shifting onto one leg. "Don't think that's gonna help anybody here."

The three of them are quiet, but it isn't a silence that suggests people have gotten their tongues caught. Not at all, you can actually almost hear the gears in their heads turning as the put together a formidable answer, one that will possibly satiate your inquisitiveness and yet keep within professional boundaries of what they're allowed to share on the case, you assume. Levi steps forward, and you're about to point your finger at him and say _"not you"_ , but if anybody's going to give you the best answer, you figure instantly that it's him as his involvement has been the most direct.

So be it, then. You guess you can listen for a bit.

"You sure ask a lot of damn fucking questions," he spits. Coming forward from standing by the large windows of the room, he places himself to the left of the Captain's desk, his arms across his chest as he continues. "Yeah. It's a guarantee that adding you to the team will cause distress among the people within the walls, but unlike you, we don't particularly thrive on public approval."

Oh, so he can read between the lines also, that's just fucking fantastic! Nevertheless, you keep your mouth shut as you continue listening to the Corporal.

"I hate repeating myself, but I mentioned before that because of the expeditions and lack of sufficient knowledge on titans, there's often a severe loss in manpower during expeditions whenever we engage in combat. It's been as high as 60% in some years, and that alone is unacceptable. No father or mother wants to learn from returning soldiers that their son has died for nothing in a war that, by now, seems kind of pointless in the eyes of many. Whether you abide by the law or not, is of no matter to us, that's left to the morons in the MP," he reiterates, and his words fall a little heavy on your shoulders. As cold as you could be, you cannot imagine the horror and suffer from those who have loved ones.

Unbeknownst to you, your expression changes, it darkens and your features fall ever so slightly, but you don't open your mouth. At least, not just yet.

Levi clicks his tongue. "No one here trusts you. So if you want to go and fuck yourself over, be our guest, but don't get frightened if the Captain or I come to do honours of personally killing you off, maybe we'll repeat the events of nearly five months ago and Levi Squad will come for your life instead. We expect you to cooperate, nice and quiet until further development in the situation comes forth. Does that answer your god damn questions?"

* * *

You're successfully escorted back to your dormitory before being cordially saluted by the cadets as they turn around and take their silent leave; papers in your hands and you read them once, twice, thrice... after you dropped yourself in bed, listless. You take a mental note that, despite its appearance, this one is much softer and kinder to your body. You hate to admit it, you truly do, but being on the surface under the official care of the Survey Corps -- as of about a week from now on, since the debate is apparently still in process of being legally accepted having it have to go through the King first -- is quite convenient. Your bed got an upgrade, your food got an upgrade, you're no longer in cuffs, you have proper clothes, and you might just get your very own 3DMG back. What more do you need?

Hah.

Time to process the situation correctly, for one. It is _ridiculous_ , incredulous to the point where it feels like one of the Levi Squad (which, side note but something that seems just outright outlandish to you, what type of fucking cheesy name is that!? They should've just stuck to _Special Operations Squad_ , really.) comrades will show up and the chase will begin once again as it had in the underground, just like he mentioned earlier today. Whilst it is fairly believable that they're after your skill set, you begin to deduce the real reason behind it and it doesn't take you long to conclude a pretty fucking solid answer to the majority of your laughable questions, now that you've come to the very bright realisation. This setup is no mere coincidence, and they were trying to smoothly gloss over it.

While, yes, you are undoubtedly skilled, you are painfully aware that anybody involved in this fiasco has come to know about your frail physique and fairly poor health. Not to mention your non-existent stamina and the rest of your health problems would surge to light when you were going to be prepared for the rigorous training. Right? So, then what's a quick and nearly guilt-free way to see somebody suffer and eventually rot and die? Expeditions outside the wall **_galore_**.

And yet you're kind of conflicted as you stare blankly above you because having the approval of an entire team to the extent of being prosecuted differently feels _good_. It makes you feel validated, and even somewhat useful, may you tread with caution. It fuels your fire, and your mind instantly wanders at how good it would be if you could make it out alive over and over, slowly but surely living up to their expectations... the praise, the applause, and maybe even the acknowledgement of not just the Scouting Legion but the general public... it would be so grand, much more than those of the underground. Even if it completely stands in juxtaposition with your original way of life.

Like a _dog_ , you turn on your back and oblige to those who give you a reward good enough.

* * *

The papers are thrown out of your sight onto the wooden flooring, the bed creaking as you twist your body comfortably and close your eyes, forcing yourself into sleep. It is late evening, somewhere before dinner, and as the rays of sun fade out into darkness and the moon shines upon the world, you embrace the silence that envelops you and thus succumb to the slumber awaiting you.

* * *

It's unclear what time it is when you open your eyes again, but by the delicate and almost otherworldly glow of your room and the air quality being fairly good, you assume it has to be very early morning. The first few rays of light shine through the sheer curtains. You take a moment to take in the serene scenery. A rustic, bare, and fundamentally empty room bathed in golden as sunrise marks the beginning of a new day. For a fleeting second, a genuine feeling of felicity overcomes you.

You jolt out of your daze. No, fuck that. Every single person in this establishment will perish by your hands. Every single individual under the guidance and loyalty of Captain Erwin Smith shall taste the blood of their own comrades before you bring them their last moments, efficiently. Blood will sit upon marble walls as you plan your slaughter.

Getting up and moving, you decide to explore on your day off. Supervision having relaxed when it comes to you, you're trusted _not_ to go rampant yet, not until the day of inspection comes and sure enough, you decide to behave. After all, if you are going to commit eventual murder and get away with it, you need to know the layout of this place. Being alone grants you the peace of mind that you need to remember everything, whereas constantly having stuck-up cunts up your ass really just doesn't allow you to concentrate as well as you wish you could.

So you wander the halls almost aimlessly, taking mental notes of everything you see. While the ceilings are impossibly high, and the columns are sturdy enough to not collapse if the anchor of your favourite plaything crashes into it, the width of the places themselves are too narrow to give anybody room to properly move. You know that the 3DMG isn't made for indoor use, but if you can, you'll fucking use it if it means getting away faster. Especially from the furtive raven.

You stop. The entirety of it so very pristine, you find, at least for what it is. Every single nook and cranny kept clean and visibly taken care of as no scratches are to be spotted, but the sumptuousness of it all is nothing but a self-aggrandising façade that can crumble in an instant and it almost makes you laugh how sad it all really is. You chuckle darkly regardless, as you think about the unchanging fact that the more riches a person has, the more decadent they become. Whether it's an individual in the confines of their own home, landowners, or a monarch. It doesn't matter, everyone's the same. Even you are.

You walk and walk until you reach the balcony that gives view to the majority of training grounds. They're empty aside from a small group of what you assume are cadets from the soon-to-be-dismissed Training Corps or maybe rookies in the Scouting Legion department. You can't really tell, but it's what you assume. Leaning, you observe them. It's a group of eight, maybe ten people, and while they're not excelling, there's a couple in between of pretty good talent. The others are average, a little clumsy, and clearly in need of some more rigorous training but nothing to not be wary of. A couple of blonds, and a couple of brunets. Friends, huh? What must that feel like?

You linger for a little while, watching them mindlessly as thoughts of your solitude in the underground swim through your mind. The Zephyr dancing in between your locks of hair as you wind up staring into nothingness, your cynosure fading as your eyes unfocus and your mind wanders to thoughts of nothing and everything all at once, but at a pace that's just... relaxing, free. You feel at ease with your surroundings, all by yourself, like a calm ocean on a sweet, summer day as children play in a bucolic town while dainty butterflies dance among the flowers. 

Sooner or later, you come to terms with the fact that after all what's happened, and months of pondering in your cavern, the surface is better even though flawed. You're a criminal, a brat, sometimes hardly sentient, and prefer to do things your way or the high way when it comes down to it. That's you when you're faced with hardships, sure. But you're still very much human on the deep inside, and allowing yourself to bask in the dulcet serenity of a calm life, at least for now, is doing your mind good. Putting it to rest for a little bit is intercepting with the stress and burden you carried in the underground.

As the sun is at its highest point, you look on to the flourishing landscape one more time, the group from earlier now gone from the barren training area, and you set off to the dining area, where you know supper will be served soon. You mull over your thoughts a little, the nipping uneasiness at the back of your head amidst the tranquillity of the situation telling you that it's only temporary. A brief moment of peace for the people within the walls, now including you, before the storm erupts.

Notwithstanding, you ignore it. There are more important things ahead for you to focus on, training comes first. But maybe you can meet a couple of new people first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this gained a bit of traction, I thought I'd share my Twitter with you guys! In case anybody has questions for me or just wants to talk (I'm in desperate need of friends, come love me ):!!). So come hit me up on there, don't be shy. [Here](https://twitter.com/denkicito)'s where you'll find me.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry that this chapter is very, very messy (or so it feels!) because I wanted to revert back to the original speed of the first chapter thus needing to compress multiple happenings in one. That said, I want to kind of announce that **Sundays** are going to be set as my upload day until the end of my current academic year. I'm starting a 4-weeks long project on an RTW-jacket, followed by a week of holiday (Easter!) and then it's gonna be a 9-weeks long draping project (basics and realisation).
> 
> But I hope that during the summer break I can upload more frequently during the week, assuming that this will still be a thing-
> 
> Anyway! Thank you for reading. ♡♡♡


	4. Comatose

"𝐼 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒,  
𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑.  
𝐻𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑠,  
𝑀𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛."

* * *

* * *

Time passes at an alarming speed when you're indulging in combat training to the extent where you lose track of time, more than usual. It's mercilessly rigorous and your body feels that, to the point where at the end of the day, you're bathing in ice water to relax your tight, sore muscles - willingly. All throughout the almost two, complete weeks. One more to go, and maybe then you'll slowly get used to the intensity of it all.

Bruises bloom where missed blocks hit from hand-to-hand combat, broken skin from where you scrape along the ground after letting your attention falter during 3DMG practice, and bandages wrap around your skin where blood oozes from slightly bigger injuries. But they are treated, and that's what counts for you. The risk of infection is much lower in comparison to you just letting it "air dry", as you referred to it back home.

Shadis gave you quite the introduction at the very beginning, and if you didn't know better, you would've thought he had a stick up his ass or something. You understand the concept of moulding troopers into a blank slate to start anew with, but he looked more like an idiot than an imposing senior and you honestly didn't know what to make of it. It took you a lot of willpower to contain your laughter back then.

You had been late today, and oh boy, he didn't like that, but what does a minute or three make a difference? To him, running until you can't anymore and then some, with a bonus of no dinner, ap-fucking-parently. The cherry on top being clocking in an hour before curfew, while he's making sure to have let Corporal Levi, Major Hange, and Major Zacharius know. Your babysitters, as he addressed them.

* * *

The moon has risen a few hours ago, bright and proud in the dark night sky, and as gracious as that is, you're not. Not that you're trying to impress anybody but now that you've gotten accustomed to the life within the Walls, you wanted to look presentable at the very least.

You indeed collapsed against the fence in front of the dining halls as your chest heaves up and down violently, trying to catch your breath. Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous, the shit you have to put up with for the sake of entering the Recon Corps as official as possible. All of this because of a couple of minutes tardiness, it makes you want to fling the entire Scouting Legion out of the highest balcony.

You can't feel your legs whatsoever. Or your lungs, for that matter.

Damning every single person that involved you in this shit to Hell, the palms of your hands are situated onto the wooden bars for support and you bring yourself upwards to your feet after around ten minutes of resting, wobbly and dizzy as you try to find your balance. Your white trousers have turned all unflattering shades of fucking nasty, and your shirt is soaked with disgusting sweat mixed with muck. You're from the underground all anybody wants, but hygiene is important no matter where the fuck you're from.

You swiftly undo the belt that stretches across your chest, skin pulling where wounds are still healing. Then you proceed to drop the upper half of the harness as it dangles along your lower half when you walk. Would you look at that? That feels like the freedom you still don't have.

You, bitter? Hardly. Just beyond exhausted and easily irritable, to the point where your own thoughts make you angry.

Fine sand and small rocks crunch beneath the sole of your boots as you march your way to your assigned room, ready to shower and call it a night. To be completely honest, at first, you were wondering if they'd ever place you in a "normal" barrack, with the other women. But you've grown so used to being by yourself, not just out of habit from living right under Mitras, but in general, that you wonder if you're allowed to ask to be granted permission to stay where you are right now.

It's not too far from the headquarters, somewhere between where you train and Erwin's studio office. Perfect.

Your gaze lingers on a particular trio as you go; they're heading for the hall, most likely to enjoy a nice, warm supper that you weren't about to have with them. Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackermann, and Armin Arlert, as you've come to know them.

The only excelling one of the three is Mikasa, a girl younger than yourself but whispers along the walls give her credit for undisputed talent. Eren has the motivation and determination, but from what you've been able to see from your training grounds sight-seeing spot, he's not exactly... good. He's teetering on the verge between flatlining or becoming something greater. As for Armin... well. He's Armin.

You meet eyes with said blond, and whereas you expect him to retreat into the large group, he deviates (much to Eren and Mikasa's surprise and disbelief) as he beelines over to greet you. You're a little confused but go along with him anyway, so you stop in your tracks for him to catch up with you with ease.

"Hey! Hey, you! You're the one that's always watching as we're training about, right!?" He shouts as he nears at a light pace, stopping in front of you. His personality is brighter than you expected, you'll give him that.

"Hey, uh, yeah. I guess that's me," you respond, "I'm surprised you've noticed, 'cause you know... it ain't exactly a short distance." That elicits a shy laugh from him, and as if by cue, the other two latch themselves onto his side. 3-for-1 type of deal, you deduce. You give the other two once overs and unlike Armin's soft gaze, Mikasa and Eren's hold a certain hardness that make you wonder.

You don't linger. None of your business and you don't want to make it so either.

"This is Mikasa, Mikasa Ackermann, and that's-"

"Eren," he says before the other can finish. "Eren Jaeger! We're in the Survey Corps, nice to meet you." His enthusiasm rubs off slightly and you find yourself smiling just a little as you exchange pleasantries among yourselves. Mikasa's not much of a talker, but she does the same out of cordiality, and you can respect her for that.

You make sure you remember them. You initially thought they were from the last group of trainees, but it seems they already graduated. And the Scouting Legion, huh? That might most likely come in handy in the future, Armin seems astute and Mikasa appears to be competent.

"Are you not going to have dinner?" Armin inquires, a look of similar nature lingering in his cerulean eyes as they take you in from top to bottom.

"Ah, no. I've hit a nerve with Instructor Shadis, and now I'm being punished," you let in, mustering a chuckle as you explain. The boy's eyes widen as does Eren's and for a minute, your eyes skim over the trio with curiosity. Was it that much of a deal, or was Shadis simply being a dick to you in particular? Maybe this has happened before, but rarely? You're about to open your mouth, but then Mikasa speaks instead.

"Sasha also had to run until she collapsed on our very first day here, but she was eating a potato in front of him during introductions instead," she elaborates and you almost can't hold back the snort of laughter; Mikasa smiles - ever so subtly but you catch it. So, people like that also exist on the surface, huh? You want to pry further but the three of them (well, more so the two young men and Mikasa glaring) stiffen up randomly and are suddenly bidding goodbyes as they scurry for the dining hall. You squint suspiciously.

Huh? What in the-

"Disobeying orders not two weeks into your training," sounds from behind you, and for a minute you wish the ground would swallow you whole. But no, as much as you hate this place, you will not let the countless hours and hard work that Shadis and Hange put into you these past days go to waste. Even if it's only to spite the short son of a bitch named Levi. "How fitting for someone that used to rob for a living, you don't know when to fucking listen, do you?"

Ah-hah, so that's it. _It_ , because Levi is an "it".

You're about to face him and salute him until you feel ghosting fingers tugging at the ends of your hair and you have to double check your senses but even then you're not sure if he did or didn't. Was that but your tired mind playing tricks on you? Not seconds later, Levi is standing in front of you. Ever so stoic, ever so cold, ever so full of hauteur.

"Shadis sure doesn't skip out on details either, it seems you're a hard one to train. I guess it's not hard enough for you, huh. Could be entertaining if I got my hands on you, don't you think, _cadet_?"

He's hellbent on intimidating you, you know this with every fibre in your being, but Gods forbid that you will be. You're slowly learning him, and that means that you can nitpick exactly when he's being unnecessarily cruel, for lack of better words.

"Sir. While I recognise that I am a handful, I don't mean for my habits to be incorrigible, sir." For goodness' sake, even your manner of speech has been changed because of the people who've been knocking it into you ( _thanks, Hange!?_ ). Balling your right fist, you bend your arm forwards and up as it sits in the general area of your heart. Your left sits behind your back. You finally salute him.

"So, to be honest, I don't really believe _your_ intervention is necessary."

To any bystander far enough unable to hear the conversations, and the others peering out of the windows of the halls curiously, it might look like a completely normal conversation. But his words are acid, and you're unable to shield yourself.

He flat out ignores your last comment. "And what do you intend to do about it?" His head cants arrogantly. "It seems their methods of preference when it comes down to correcting **_behavioural_** issues doesn't sit with you. There ought something to be done about that before all of this goes to waste," he muses, and his eyes linger along the belts of your half-undone harness.

He approaches you, comes closer with just a couple of strides and his finger pulls at the vertical belt that should be hanging down your torso, secured and bound.

"Your harness is even halfway undone; an old habit of taking your clothes off easily is kicking in?"

_**THIS SON OF A B-** _

"This is only my opinion," he states, and the way the moonlit reflected glint in his eyes darkens with rancour makes your hairs stand on end. Not that you will be subdued. Please. You're _tired_ , not submissive.

"But when it comes to teaching discipline..."

Closing the fair, and dare you call it, safe distance between the two of you even more, Levi stands unshaken. Not you, though. You find it difficult to understand what exactly about him is it that has you hesitating. The very foundation that forms you as a person, somebody who takes nothing from nobody, seems to crack and become unsteady in his presence. And it makes you grit your teeth, furthering the desire to antagonise him.

"I believe that **pain** is the most effective method," he finishes.

You prepare yourself for a blow of sorts to follow his words but nothing comes. Instead, you're ordered to face the other way and start walking, no questions asked. For the sake of not causing a ruckus, you oblige. Reluctantly so but nevertheless. It seems he knows that as well, but if he brings you out far enough, that means that you can go off on him as much as you want without witnesses.

And he does.

* * *

The title of Humanity's Strongest graces him rightfully the moment he gives you no chance, delivering a swift, solid kick to the expanse of your stomach that has you doubling forward in pain as your arms wrap instinctively around your abdomen. Followed up instantly by him grabbing a fistful of your hair and using his knee to hit your jaw. The paragon of being a soldier, a leader, you can recognise that to an extent, but this just turns the fire burning inside you into a blazing inferno.

At least he doesn't make a difference between men and women.

Your head shoots up as soon as he lets go of you and you ignore the pain in your lower torso as you charge for him at full speed, and strength. Fuck whatever tactics you may have learned, you're going at him with how you've grown up. Raw and unapologetic. Swinging your fist at an angle as you aim for his face, lunging forward and taking the chance to bring your weight into the hit.

But you miss, the quick movements momentarily blackening your vision.

You assimilate quickly that Levi is as agile as a cat and as sly as a fox, and before you can register anything properly, the exhaustion from the day settles on your worn down body; that works in his advance given he manhandles you as he wants to with hardly any exertion.

Between the sheds and hidden off from unsuspecting cadets, you are brought into collision, face first, against the wall as your arm is forced behind your back. Any more pressure and it'll fucking break. The other is forcefully hooked under yours, and he successfully restrains you entirely.

This motherfucker and his God-forsaken- _**ugh**_. You're too fucking tired to be dealing with Levi's pile of shit, but you don't go out without a fight. You take pride in being tenacious.

His fingers wrap around your wrist with ease - they're remarkably cold, you notice -, and he uses the weight of his body to press you down and lock you in place. His body is warm, and it's such an unfamiliar feeling that it almost catches you off guard. Proximity has never been a forte.

That aside... there are more important matters at hand, such as him trying to snap your already brittle bones into smithereens. The more you struggle, the more pressure he applies onto your arm, and in no time, your shouts of anger are reduced to whimpers of pain as you halt your retaliation.

"You're ten years too soon, runt," he comments.

He doesn't loosen his grip on you, and the pain burns along your muscles of your arms. You try hooking your foot over his ankle to trip him but he's quick-witted and knocks the side of his boot against your outer ankle bone, and you want to screech. But you don't, not if it's in this cunt's presence.

"I'm not going to sit back and watch some kid who thinks she's tough shit waste the efforts of my comrades. You're dead fucking wrong if you think I'll have you in the Survey Corps just because the Captain took a liking to you. We might need cannon fodder, but you're not even worth that. You'll piss yourself as soon as you come face to face with a titan."

"Like fuck I will, you piece of shit!" You shout and your muscles jerk as you try to escape his iron grip. "Fuck's wrong with you, anyway? Got a bone to pick with me since the fucking start. I get that you don't like me, so leave me the fuck alone!?" Gritting your teeth, you attempt to shove your torso against him to send him stumbling, and he does for a split second.

But you're feeling it, the exhaustion of the past two weeks, your body has hit its limit. Just from that burst of energy, you're panting and light-headed, the lack of food in your system worsening everything. You will yourself to calm down but it hurts. It hurts, you want to tell him, but sympathy isn't something that he holds for you and you know that; the aura he gives off around you is as cold as tundra ice. And even if he did, hypothetically speaking, you hate being vulnerable in front of people.

For the children of the underground, the loveless orphans that you took care of, you'd always been the strong older sister. No tears, no pain, no hurt. The kids, especially Hannah and Elliot, the younger ones of the bunch. They needed a figure of authority in their lives, and if it was going to be you, you needed to know better than to be weak. Strong yet sensitive. Dedicated, warm, honest. But not vulnerable. Never that.

You can't help the defeated breath that falls from your lips as your lids feel heavy, and the debility increases. His deep, eerily calm voice is close to your ear and your head spins.

"My soldiers will not die just because some brat gained the favour of the Captain. I trust his decisions, but clearly, the intent of having you become fit to be a soldier isn't getting through you."

Nimble fingers pull you back, and you have a moment to catch your breath before he's slamming you face-first into the hardened, wooden surface of the storage shed once, twice, thrice over with no effort. You can't help but shriek, the bruises and sores reminding you that you're still very much human.

And all of a sudden you're free.

"You will learn."

Those words remind you how much a threat and a promise are alike.

Nobody's holding you, nobody's hurting you. He subsides, and you gracelessly flatline as you hit the floor. Your breathing is erratic but you turn over to look up at the towering Corporal as you sit on your ass with you back against the stone foundation that supports nearly every wooden barrack and hut around Trost, particularly in the surrounding area where the Survey Corps and its training camps are situated.

He's a sadist on all levels, and tonight you've become his outlet.

His boot lifts your chin and you clench your jaw, awaiting more derision and humiliation from Levi. Instead, your expectations are proved erroneous and you're met with solid orders.

"Get up. Head to your dormitory. If you're met with the others, tell them you were held back a while by me."

He turns away and starts retreating. All you can do in your knackered state is mindlessly watch the broad of his own back as he walks out of the shadows. Moonlight reflecting on his black hair, and profiling his features in an almost ethereal way when he speaks over your shoulder, there's something... unholy about it. 

In all of your nearly-unconscious state of being, you think that he looks a lot like a devil. A beckoning devil that wishes to overturn darkness but unknowingly attracts it.

You can hardly catch the implication of his last words for the night before he's completely gone.

"Shadis deserves **a break** , don't you agree?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A COUPLE OF THINGS I WANNA MENTION!
> 
> #1 is that, for anybody who wants to get in the mood for it, or is curious to hear what I listen to when I write this hot mess of a "story", [_here_](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7qYJDoHPwfbAl0bggg-wCcwaXObApBwx) is the playlist.
> 
> #1.5, EARLY UPDATE BECAUSE I HAVE HOMEWORK FOR THE WEEKEND WHICH IS GOING TO BE EXTREMELY TIME-CONSUMING!
> 
> #2 is that I'm slowly trying to elongate the chapters because I want to train myself back into the habit of writing a lot like I used to back in maybe 2012. That said, I'm also trying to make the paragraphs less heavy, and more spread out for easier reading. I know some people may have reading difficulties of sorts and I feel like a whole wall of text isn't gonna help _anybody_ \+ it can get boring.
> 
>  
> 
> **CLASS-RELATED INCOMING RANT ABOUT... A JACKET.**
> 
>  
> 
> #3 is not related to the story but my brain is **SO** fried from all the Maths I've been doing.
> 
> Okay, so I think I mentioned this at some point that right now I'm sort of in the middle of making an RTW-jacket that's gonna deliver me 7 or even 8 different grades. Which is fine and all, receiving grades isn't the biggest problem here. The problem is the PATTERN MAKING. Construction patterns **and** pattern pieces (tracing the latter and adding seam allowances are a fucking nightmare, let me tell you that. Especially when it's not as easy as you'd think to get 1cm seam allowance on curves even with my tailor's ruler).
> 
> First of all. There are certain requirements we have to meet and bound pockets + bound buttonholes are two of them. THEY ARE A GOD DAMN NIGHTMARE TO PUT TOGETHER FOR A BORING! MEDIOCRE! RESULT! All the fiddling (with 80% woollen material nevertheless!) and hand-sewing for something that looks like a textile butthole. PLEASE.
> 
> Second of all, between the lining that corresponds to the top of centre-back of the jacket and the undercollar, we need to place a piece called the "banana", which gives not only support and structure, but it's also a nice "tailor's" touch. LISTEN. THE FUCKING CALCULATIONS FOR THAT SHIT ARE UNREAL. ALGEBRAIC EQUATIONS AND QUANTUM PHYSICS HAVE NOTHING ON THAT SHIT. Not to mention you have to cut 0,5 mm from the fold line of it (on paper) to shape it right and that's. SO ANNOYING TO FIDDLE WITH. I USED THREE DIFFERENT FUCKING RULERS TO DRAW IT???
> 
> Don't even get me started on making a lapel collar, which is generally done on a separate piece of paper but for convenience, I did it on the basic construction of the jacket (on the centre-front, right). I LITERALLY ALMOST HAD A BREAKDOWN, SHDHDF. IT TOOK ME LIKE THREE DAYS... meanwhile, I made the sleeves in a couple of hours, what nonsense.
> 
> Technically, no numbers are set (for width, height, etc) but at the same time, everything has to correspond, please explain that to me. NOT TO MENTION MINE LOOKS GIGANTIC but okay. And then my teacher complains about my button placements and overlap, like what do you want from me?
> 
> Also, I need to indicate the facing and lining of the jacket on the basic construction and I'm kind of like, good luck with that. 'CAUSE A BITCH NEVER LEARNED HOW AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'M DOING IT. The compendium we received is in Danish, by the way, so it ain't fUCKING HELPFUL, AHHH.
> 
> Anyway, that's my week thus far.
> 
> How are you?


	5. Clandestine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, boy. What did I just do- 50% of you will love this, 50% will hate me with a burning passion.
> 
> Let's see what happens, I guess. :-)!

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑔𝑒,  
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒.  
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑙𝑦,  
𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑠𝑜𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑘𝑦."

* * *

* * *

The second you open your eyes, something feels awfully off - aside from the soreness in your abdominal area. Your gut is instantly telling you that this isn't going to be your day, that you should probably not go outside of your bedroom by any means. Tout de-suit, the name, and probably the very reason why the feeling of unsettlement is currently running through your very veins, pops up in your head.

It's none other than Levi, also known as "because of your bullshit, I couldn't properly fucking sleep". The sun hasn't even risen.

Frankly speaking, you don't remember how you even got to your bedroom in the first place. Your latest memory of last night's unpleasant meeting with the Corporal is his retreating back and some slurred words that you never got to understand. No matter how much you wrack your brain and try to recall his last words to you, they don't come.

But what you do remember is how you thought that he was beckoning.

You want to angrily scream as you aggressively yank your trousers over your legs and otherwise work your way into your uniform as you stomp around in your room. Why? The answer is very simple: acknowledging Levi as beckoning means that some part of you has accepted that he just might be. Despite the fact that he is and will forever remain a socially inept, short, anger issues-having, sadist cretin, especially when speaking of his personality and just the general way he carries himself...!! Despite that, some part of you has admitted that he's... well, he's...

Your conscious mind just can't bring itself to actually let you admit to it, and to you, it makes perfect sense because you hate the bastard.

He beat you up, for goodness' sake, there's nothing attractive about that. He's an angry fucking gremlin!

As you slip your boots on, there are three consecutive knocks on your door, and as soon as you confirm being inside, Hange bursts in with energy that no human being should have first thing in the morning... night? What fucking time is it?

"My little prodigy, good morning! I know it's unusual for me to be here this early, but...! You see, there's something important that you need to be made aware of, so Captain Erwin summoned me and told me that I should come to pick you up! Are you done? You look done, let's go!"

"I- Squad Leader Hange, wait! My jacket!" You exclaim but there's no chance of you getting a word in anywhere, she's already dragging you out the door as you stumble over your feet, the subordinate she brought along just bemused at the sight. By now, you know that this isn't anything sort of unusual when it comes to her, and deep down, you're thankful that she's in this undesired dilemma with you. It eases the pressure on your shoulders.

* * *

The halls are filled with her chatter as you can't help but force a smile, unable to keep track of whatever she's talking of. You resort to vastly standard responses and hope that she doesn't notice you can't keep up. It's comforting, how open Hange is about everything and anything revolving around her experiments and tests.

But that felicity and easiness come to an abrupt halt as you two stand before the impressive, wooden doors of Erwin Smith's office, and the Squad Leader allows herself in the same way she did into your room. It feels like your impending doom is looming over you, like a shadow, and who you see inside only raises your suspicions.

To Erwin's right stands Levi, and to his left Hange finds her rightful place. Instructor Shadis is sat on the sofa-chair against the wall as you stand smack-dab in the middle of the room, with their eyes on you. If there's one thing that can and probably should intimidate you, is having people who you know are the elite among elites, stare you down like hunters watching their prey.

What is going on?

As if he reads your mind, Erwin speaks up with a firmness in his voice that makes your posture become straighter than it already is. He starts, "I am thoroughly impressed with your progress so far. Shadis has kept me informed up until this very moment, and while I initially counted on at least fifty percent chance of failure, it seems that notwithstanding the very fact that it's only been a fortnight, you've been majorly rectified."

You know he's speaking sincerely but you can't help but feel as if something is still entirely off. Like you're about to be dropped into abysmal doom, but you allow him to continue as your own, deducing hues study the other people inside the room. Hange is giddy, Shadis is serious, and Levi is stoic.

"Precisely why I want to seal that improvement, make sure that it stays with you. Shadis has done a superb job until today, and I'm eternally thankful for his working regime to be so efficient. So, from tomorrow on, in his stead..."

No.

No, no, no. Don't fucking say it.

"...the one to supervise you..."

You're not religious, you don't believe in God, but right now you're fiercely and sincerely praying to every existing deity that your premonition is wrong.

"...is going to be Levi."

For fuck's holy sake. This is why you shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

The ambience in the room changes from pleasant to tense, except for Hange - she's looking at you with absolute glee, and the terror that you inwardly feel must be expressed on your face because the Captain chuckles delightedly. You take a moment to gather your rampant thoughts before you start spluttering, flustered at your lack of composure before you take a deep breath and start over again. The collar of your white button-up feels much too tight all of a sudden.

"Captain Smith, with my sincerest respect, sir, but I don't see the necessity for this. I mean, you said it yourself. Shadis has kept up excellent work from the very first day up until the last moments, and even I can recognise that I've been changed almost drastically. I have had some slip ups, rooted in my unruly nature, but I'm sure that he can set those straight as well," you propose. You know that he's listening because his cerulean orbs are trained on you, intently so. You continue. "Wouldn't suddenly changing supervisors throw the flow off? There are no doubts in my mind that Corporal Levi has a different way of operating than Instructor Shadis."

It's clear that you've presented a fair point as soon as Erwin rests his elbows upon his desk, fingers laced in front of him as he stares in contemplation. That gesture has you feeling nearly triumphant but when you look at Levi, you know it's a lost battle because the captain isn't actually contemplating leaving it as it is but rather giving you a logical explanation.

The decision has already been made and there's no backtracking on it.

* * *

When you leave the room, you don't leave by yourself. Night time has already fallen, you've spent the entire day in that room, discussing every single little detail about the hows, the whys, the whens. Corporal Levi exits first and you follow suit, bidding your thank yous and goodbyes to Shadis before closing the heavy door. Teeth sink into your lips as you walk not quite beside him but not quite next to him either. Was this hall always this long?

"Do you hate me?" He speaks up without so much sparing you a glance, looking ahead.

His voice always takes you by surprise. He's a man of small stature. You guess he's otherwise well-built considering the exertion one must put into their body to handle the manoeuvre gear and the incredible amount of strength it takes. If the rumours of him being nothing short of a master with it is anything to go by, you can make up a pretty clear image of what his body looks like under his clothes.

Not that you have any desire to; back to the point.

Levi's voice seems so unfitting for his physique. You always expect a higher-pitched voice to resonate when he begins speaking, but it's never the case. However, if you had to find a way for it, you find that his voice matches his slate blue orbs, in a unique way.

"I do," you answer flatly. There's no reason to beat around the bush with him. You might hate the man but you can acknowledge the fact that he's not stupid, much like the rest of his squad. "But I don't think that that's news t'ya," you follow up and the words are accompanied with a shrug of your narrow shoulders. What is he trying to get at?

" _Good,_ " he says. You're at the verge of questioning _what the fuck exactly is good about **that**_ , but he doesn't give you a chance to speak again. He leads you into a room similar to Erwin's and you can only guess that this is the Corporal's own studio. Instantly, you observe your surroundings so you can memorise them. If possible, you hope to find clues for important materials like maps and documents.

It's very dimly lit so it's a hard task, and the room looks mostly unused - but you can't be too rash and make that conclusion yet, solely because he might simply like his things neat and organised. There are books upon books in a shelf in the corner, a luxurious-looking chair behind his oak desk, and little more when it comes to his... space. Very minimal.

* * *

You stand by the door after shutting it behind you and stay right where you are, watching him shrug off the green cape as he drapes it neatly over one of the dark chairs that are positioned more against the wall. Only then do you notice the lack of sofa, unlike in the Captain's room, and you wonder if it's been his choice. After all, whereas Smith has some form of clutter on his windowsill, Levi has nothing but a pillow.

That said, you try not to allow your mind to wander. Levi is dangerous, and there's no need for you to get distracted unless you want to be caught by surprise. You can't remind yourself enough of this.

Not that your mind is willing to cooperate; ever since last night, it seems that your focus on him has been irritatingly predominant. Not one little thing about him seems to go unnoticed by your sharp gaze and quick wit. Did he really hit you that hard that your senses are all out of place? Good lord.

Without the green outerwear, you discern that his shoulders are surprisingly narrow. You study his overall figure before you actually realise it, and it's only now that you notice, well, several things.

The uniform jacket is cropped, which gives view to the lower half of the person's torso and you're surprised to be met by a rather slim waist. The taut belts of the harness accentuating everything else, and you almost scoff out loud.

Incredible, really. Most women dream of having such a well-proportioned body, but here we have this insufferable bitch having it. Because of course, he has to be physically perfect, considering his personality is absolute trash.

His legs are long for his body (because he's still fucking short), and the knee-high boots in combination with the white trousers give the illusion of even longer, slimmer legs. Surely, functionality over flattery is kept in mind when designing a military uniform but these are in good taste, you find.

Levi takes off the light brown jacket and you simply watch the fabric crease as he puts that over the backrest of his desk chair. Taking a seat on that said chair, he leans back as he fetches paperwork and for a minute you wonder why you're here in the first place. Is he just going to pretend you're not right by the door?

You're staring almost deadpan at him.

As if he feels that, his dark grey eyes snap up to meet yours and the most subtle lift of his left eyebrow is what you take as the inquisition to know why he's your cynosure.

Your breath hitches silently in your throat, and you look somewhere else more interesting.

You've been fucking caught staring. At Levi, out of all fucking people.

Or maybe Erwin is perfectly aware of the fact that you can't take your eyes off of him either, who knows?

* * *

You snap out of your mild daze as the Corporal finally speaks after around twenty minutes of silence. "We'll be going over the plans for the upcoming week. I expect that this serves you enough to not be late. If you think Shadis' punishments are bad, make sure you don't cross _me_ ," he threatens and you can only roll your eyes. How fucking lovely.

But you know better than to bark back like a rabid dog; you bite your tongue bitterly, perfectly aware of the circumstances in this very moment. You're in his territory, going up against him where you stand is suicide. So when he beckons you over with his fingers and gestures towards the nearest, almost uncomfortable-looking seat, you sit down and remain quiet. Papers are neatly put on the table and you can only wonder what sadistic type of schedule he has come up with.

"First things first. I want you up and ready every single morning at four thirty, a minute later and I'll personally make sure that you fix that overnight. I don't like tardiness, I don't have time to waste. Now that that's out of the way, moving onto your training schedule. From the new members of the Survey Corps, I have selected a few to help you in hand-to-hand combat. I hope you don't try to back out just because you're not the strongest and they might just be. Get beaten down seven times, stand up eight. No fucking excuses."

Up until there, you admit that it doesn't sound too bad. It's in similar fashion with Shadis' regime save for the "get up before the fucking sun has even risen" rule, for lack of better words. It can't get that bad, can it?

_**Can it?** _

"We will be heading to the Titan Forest for training every afternoon. You've had plenty time to get accustomed to the manner of use of the gear within the walls, never mind underground, but you're going to prove fucking useless if you can't use it in a more natural territory. And if you get eaten, then that might just be that," he continues and your heart beats against your ribcage at the thought. Going outside of the walls? So soon? You're sure he wants you to fall prey to a man-eating monster.

You will not fall. You can't.

Sidenote, _"that might just be that"_!? What, **and you cannot stress this enough,** the fuck!? Where did the "my soldiers won't die in vain"-spiel go?

Out the fucking window, that's where.

"Evenings will be decided as the day passes, but don't count on resting or sleeping before you're expected to be headed to your room. Most likely you will aid us with paperwork and other trivial matters since we're currently not under any circumstances which require preparations. Most soldiers have been granted time off to visit their families, but you don't need any of that. Questions?" His gaze lifts from the papers and even though there are questions you do have, you allow them to linger, for them to never be asked. They're not grand or relevant enough to spend any more time with him.

Except for one.

"I do, sir."

He remains unimpressed. "Well? What is it?"

It takes you a lot of courage not to break. With Levi being your superior right now and him being quite unpredictable, this can only go either black or white, but if you don't try you'll be damned. You might no longer have a biological family, but the children under the surface still meant everything to you.

"You-" Uncertain on how to begin, you feel your toes curl in your boots. Nimble digits tugging and pulling the straps of your belts as you mull over it. "Fuck, uh. Well, it's for sure that I ain't got no _biological_ family there, so in that instance... you're right on the mark, I guess," you reluctantly admit. He's still not sparing you a glance but you know that he's listening.

Your put-together, formal way of speaking is waning as you fall back into the relaxing, not-very-ladylike ways of underground speech. In the dim room, even you can tell that the Corporal knows better than the front you present in order to please your teachers and current supervisors as a whole. He knows. He knows so well how you try to gain approval of those who you know you'll benefit from, the man isn't an imbecile - and he's picked at that before, and that's why you want to strangle him. Not to mention, about five months ago, he's the one that leashed you and gracelessly presented you to the Military Police for your trial.

The atmosphere becomes less tense and the fiddling of your fingers comes to a halt as you allow your fingers to caress the worn leather with your fingertips, ever so absentminded.

"But I do have a family of sorts. There're some kids down who, y'know, kinda depended on me for livin'. They were onlookers as y'all arrested me and I've been worried sick at the back of my mind ever since. So I was kinda wonderin' if at some point this week it'd be possible to visit 'em. I wanna make sure they're doing well, it's been, uh, months."

Levi remains silent.

* * *

The distant ticking of a small clock is the only sound filling the confines of the room, ricocheting off of the walls and falling upon your ears. Everything is almost too loud all of a sudden, your breathing, your heartbeat, the clock, and Levi's fingers upon the papers. The rain outside is only visible as the soft drizzle trickles down the glass of the window, the night sky albeit cloudy still in all of its majestic grandeur.

It's as if something is squeezing your heart, tight and secure, to the point where it's causing asphyxiation and discomfort. He shows no sign of actually speaking first, and you ponder whether you should clarify further or not.

You don't, too afraid of pressing the matters more and ruining your chances of seeing your lovely, little brothers and sisters nevermore.

Minutes tick by and you're running out of breath, the heavy presence of Humanity's Strongest weighing down on your shoulders, his wordless tranquillity offering a false sense of security. As if he's giving you a sliver of hope, right out of his hand, with the most probable intention of crushing it the second you attempt to get a good hold of it.

Hard to please, hard to decipher, hard to deal with - Levi.

Finally, he shifts in his seat. Putting the paperwork down as the sheets rustle. You watch him, sharp, as he removes his cravat and places it on the empty side of the desk, a pair of fingers effortlessly undoing the first couple of buttons of his stark white button up. His eyes are on yours the entire time, those eyes, as blue as Delphiniums under a starry, full moon night sky telling no tales of the man.

And the thought of last night comes back to your mind once more, for the second consecutive night.

He's a devil. A brutal, austere, sadistic devil laced in everything bittersweet that attracts the masses. Eyes as cold as arctic ice and tongue as sharp as a knife, he bows and bends for nobody. Known to be exceptionally great at mind games, Levi turns and spins people around him like marionettes.

Oh, you've _heard_ them, the squealing girls of the underground, coquettish as they speak of the _handsome_ , _unyielding_ , and _strong_ Captain Levi. The giggles and daydreams of younger girls who long for nothing more than a night with him, the devil himself, lured in by the whispers of others and stolen glimpses when they had their chance to look into the surface. While older women seek him for marriage, either for themselves or their daughters. Fascinating to behold, really.

No guard at the bottom of the stairs could stop these Levi-crazed women if he ever decides to set foot down there. Not that you think he would, he looks like he belongs in Mitras rather than the Underground.

He's dangerously alluring, the elusive and brooding nature of the man allowing him to lace anybody around his fingers if he has the wish for it. You don't want to recognise it, but ever since you've arrived, whenever you've directed your word against his, the horrified looks of the cadets show nothing but how high he's held among the subordinates and inferiors. You're not afraid of him, you've dealt with tough men throughout your life, but when you're confronted by the person whose name resonates in even the dirtiest corners within the walls, you need to remind yourself who he really is.

Because his reality? His reality is so much worse than any of the chatting girls will ever anticipate. Vicious, savage, volatile, and he will have a person crumble before his very eyes if he sees the need to break them without so much as batting an eye. Mentally, physically, and emotionally all at once.

And that's why you tread with care right now.

"What are you willing to do for it?" Levi inquires, bored expression morphing on his visage as he leans his elbow on the armrest, and the side of his head where the joints of his phalanges bend. But his tone of voice is different.

"Excuse me?"

"Surely you don't think you're going to be given free time just because? The soldiers have given their lives, they're more than deserving of some time off." 

Caught, you pause for a brief moment. You shake your head and this seems to amuse him to a very mild extent, hues creasing ever so slightly with the smile that fails to grace his tiers, it graces his eyes instead.

" _Good girl_ ," he purrs with a voice as thick and sweet as honey, laced with seduction and other tones you can't pinpoint right now. "So then, what will it be?"

What? No. Your heart _totally_ didn't almost just leap out of your fucking ribcage. What nonsense is that? You're **f i n e**!

Your mind is racing, gears going at full speed as you try to come up with an answer that will hit the mark. Is this a trick question? Is he expecting a specific answer? Is he actually offering? What does he want? Is he testing you? You don't know how to answer, and it feels like if you don't answer fast enough then he'll make sure to obliterate any chance of returning to your home city as rapid as possible.

Perhaps the panic that you feel inward is visible on your visage because Levi raises his hand ever so slightly, and his fingers move in a "come hither" motion. Once, twice, and that's it. Short and quite straight to the point.

You don't question it. You oblige as you stand up from your spot and walk towards the front of the desk as you stand before it, looking at him. All you want is an answer, all you want is to see your precious gems and make sure they're safe and well, and right now, whatever it takes just to answer him correctly so he grants you permission to visit your city for the first time ever since you'd been brought to Trost.

The rain has gotten louder as it drips against the glass, the sound drowning out everything else. Except for his dissatisfaction; his eyebrow arches and baritone voice laced with displeasure turns imperative. It sends electrifying shivers down your spine. You'll never forget the strength in his silence, never mind in his words.

"I said _here_. Do I have to tell you everything twice now, too?" He hisses and you leap as fast as your heart earlier to stand in front of him. From your position, you can see how he's seated. Left ankle resting upon his right knee when he turns in his chair to face you, looking up at you with the eyes of an eagle, noting your every last movement like a hunter ready to pounce. Imposing, intimidating, feral.

Sitting upright as he straightens his spine, cold fingers dip into the gap between your clothed thigh and the warm, brown leather as he pulls you in to stand between his legs. Why? Why are you letting him initiate this? It has a strong, possible, and nearly set-in-stone outcome. Are you honestly that fucking desperate? The answer is obvious, but out of all the men you would succumb to, out of all the times you swore that if it came down to it, you made a promise to yourself that it'd be with a man that you could at least tolerate. If you had to resort to these things, at least that.

But he has you right where he wants you because he has the upper hand, using the only thing you've expressed genuine desire to have against you, like a weapon. His unwavering tranquillity remains even when he pushes his digits further along your inner thigh and you're trying your damn hardest not to lose composure; it's mind-blowing and frightening how he doesn't seem to be fazed. You feel like he's holding you over a ledge. Not that you know what way you'd teeter over to, disgust or...?

You don't think, there's no use in thinking when the air feels heavy and your sense are all focused on his attention. You stay still. Allowing the palm of his hand to caress along the outer side of your leg, it rises along the curves of your body over your hip as it settles on your waist. The coolness of his palm is easy to feel through the fabric of your shirt and a subtle shiver wracks down your spine as goosebumps break out on your skin. He's still watching you, but the look in his eyes has shifted.

Tugging at the left belt that cascades down along the left side of your torso, he toys with the loop that hooks onto the belt at your hips and with just one hand, he pulls it apart and completely undone. That is another type of experience that you'd rather not find out about, you muse. The raven's hand falls back on your leg as if waiting for you to move, and whilst you are absolutely inexperienced, you can take a hint.

Trembling fingers reach over to the strap strained across your chest and you unhook it clumsily, shrugging the harness off of your shoulders. Your body feels hot as if somebody just cranked up the thermostat in the room; what a nuisance, it's barely summer.

Your wandering thoughts are halted in their tracks for the last time when he starts popping the buttons of your shirt open with an almost suspicious facility, which has you reaching down for his hand with both of yours to stop him at once as a red flush dusts your cheeks and cheekbones ever so slightly. It goes unnoticed under the warm candlelight, even when his hues find yours again.

Do you want him to stop? Or are you acting based on how you're used to? A man has never laid a hand on you, you don't know how to act. Your mind is a boundless haze of unclear thoughts; your lower lip caught between pearly whites as your hues find elsewhere to look at that's not him.

"...?" It is not even a proper noise he makes, a vague sound of acknowledgement all the while he's intertwining his digits with yours and like so pushing your hand out of the way. First one, followed soon after by the other. He continues his task, and you let him. Why? Why are you letting him? For the sake of the children, that's why.

Is this what the women of the underground had to do every single day, for money? A living? No. This is different in every existing way.

You need to face it.

You want this for pleasure. The thought of it all, with Levi explicitly, sets your veins on fire. The disastrous result of using debauch of this sort to relieve any feelings beyond hatred in such a halcyon fashion. Numbing your psyche for just a while. So now you take initiative in his stead, following where he is at as you pull the somewhat stiff textile out of your trousers, leaving your shirt open and untucked as it drapes over your bust.

Your actions seem to spur him on for a brief moment, standing up from his chair and you forget how to breathe for a second as he's standing not even centimetres from you. He smells piquant and you vaguely recognise the scented oils in the showers as it lingers on his skin, mingled with something so uniquely his that it just overcomes your senses in the most delicious of ways. The palm of his ice-cold hand nestles the side of your head as other fingers ghost along the bare skin of your hipbone, and you lean unknowingly into the touch.

He's frighteningly calm, still.

Levi closes proximity between you two, and the memory of his warmth on yours lingers on your mind. He doesn't quite put a claim on your lips with his own, instead allows them to graze ever so delicately. You want more.

You want him, you want him, you want him. So bad.

"Didn't I tell you before...?" He speaks against your ear, breath hot as he smirks, tongue flicking over his canines before he retreats just enough to see your face again. His tone matches the smirk on his face, but you're too out of it for the moment to read between the lines and see anything coming.

"These old habits of yours die hard."

And then it clicks because it hits you like cold water to the face first thing in the morning. Humiliation washes entirely over you, the fogginess of your mind clearing in the snap of fingers, and the lustful tinge in your eyes is replaced with rage. You have no care about your dishevelled appearance when you raise your hand to slap him across the face with a brutality that you don't even recognise, but with a fox's agile nature, he catches it and painfully holds onto your wrist, nearly twisting it where you stand.

This pig. This **fucker** , this disgusting son of a motherfucking piece of shit whore. He did this on _purpose_.

You yank it out of his vicious grip, and instead of doing or saying anything else, you shove him back with as much force as your bewildered state allows you. Looking at him for a moment, disbelief is all that's present on your visual before you retreat. He lets you, chuckling in dark amusement when you set off to the door and slam it behind you for good measure. Only then do tears or sheer rage glide down your rosy cheeks, jaw clenched as you make furious way to your room, wanting nothing but to escape his unsparing claws.

He will pay. He will fucking pay with his blood before you're driven to the verge of insanity, even if it costs you your worthless life.

You will **_maul_** him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *23:30*  
>  **me:** I will be uploading on Sundays!!  
>  **my brain:** i wIlL bE uPloAdInG oN sUnDaYs1"!1!!
> 
> Yeah, _I DON'T KNOW_ , HAVE THIS. A burst of inspiration came through, yikes. I guess that's what happens when all you do in class is STRESS.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Are 5 chapters too soon to be touchy? IDK, tbh. I'll let you in on a little secret that's pretty relevant on how I write and let the story build:
> 
> I used to be a role player for, like... 2011 'til 2018. 7 whole years, approximately. Stay with me, I'm not a creep. I started with the intention of bettering my English and expanding my lexicon as the years passed.
> 
> And I initially wrote my muses in the "I" pronoun, later switched to "she/her"/"he/him". For me, RP threads (with others) were often based on "let's see where our muses take this story". WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE. If it feels right to write, I will. If it doesn't, I won't. And this may not always please you guys, but that's fine with me (e.g. chapter 4 doing statistically stellar, as opposed to chapter 3).
> 
> I'm sure most of you can tell that I write very centred around the perspective of the reader (her thoughts, views, opinions, actions, etc), and it's because my brain is wired to write characters that way; I want to show the universe she's in through her own eyes, like she perceives it. I try my best to describe atmospheres, situations, places, and all, BUT I FAIL MISERABLY SO (and I'm very sorry, I promise I'm working on it).
> 
> I hope that that's not an issue. I just want everyone to feel as real as possible. Hence the lack of Eren and Co., since the reader is kind of unused to mingling, she doesn't go _to_ them but doesn't reject them when they come to her either (wHICH THEY WILL, I PROMISE (remember that Mikasa doesn't like Levi that much either, huhuhuhu...)).
> 
> But yeah. Just thought I'd share that, in case anybody is curious as to why I'm a shit writer in comparison to some of the people I've been 👀 at around here, and on other SNS.
> 
> There's also something else I wanted to say regarding the story, but my dumb ass forgot so here we are. Also, if there are any discrepancies... I, uh. DIDN'T PROOFREAD ANY OF WHAT YOU JUST READ, LMAO. 8)
> 
> Have a nice week(end)! IDK if I'll upload twice this week, mayhaps I might.


	6. Ultion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab a snack, this chapter is ~7.2K words.

"𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔,  
𝑇𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑.  
𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛; 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑘,  
𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ."

* * *

* * *

It's a good thing that human beings don't have the capability to remember any sort of pain, or at least not any significant pain.

Mikasa Ackermann, a quiet and somewhat turbulent girl that's younger than you by no more than a few years. Short, black hair after loose and free to move paired with beautiful chrome eyes. She doesn't look like much, but the hits and kicks she delivers are strong enough to rival some of the people you've fought with when you were younger. Dubbed as the most capable trainees in the history of the Military, you surely are impressed with her admirable competence.

Reiner, Ymir, and Mikasa are without a shred of doubt recognised as some of the strongest, and now current members of the Survey Corps. Fighting them, even if it's purely a mock-up, is no easy feat, but you don't give up because all of this is just so you can fulfil your revenge on the MPs to your heart's content at a later date.

Every morning, the routine is the same, except every day, you have a different opponent. From what you've observed, the next in line is always stronger than the last, like an upgrade of sorts. Krista came first, then Armin, then Eren, then Reiner, and now Mikasa. To be fair, you're actually happy that this is how Levi organised it because it forces you to implement your base and new knowledge overnight, making you memorise everything quicker.

It goes without saying that the fights with Krista and Armin have been easily won, they're not exactly the human equivalents of Titans. It didn't leave _him_ any more impressed, not that that is ever a case of matter but at least Shadis gives credit where it's rightfully due.

Eren and Reiner had been a little tougher but you made it past them regardless, though these times, you did break a sweat somewhere along the way. Where Eren has more coordination landing kicks and punches, Reiner has more brute strength. Resulting in you learning Eren and defeating him with his own methods, and you finding gaps in Reiner's "strategy" to take him out instead.

Needless to say, you haven't given Levi any reason to punish, criticise, or even demand you during the after-hours. Dutifully respecting the work hours and doing as asked from with no backtalking. Which is only a good thing for you because you're not suffering at the hands of a madman.

Your mind wanders to the fight with Eren. Or rather, the little, fond talk afterwards.

* * *

You fall back, finally, panting and tired, on the floor in front of the brunet with a victorious grin on your face. Emerald eyes find yours and he can't help but laugh with you after he's lifted himself back onto his feet once again. Reaching his hand out to you, you gladly take it, and between the both of you, you're heaved up to your feet in front of Jaeger.

"Woah, you really are great, aren't you?" He praises you, and you see his eyes gleam with admiration. "You don't have a lot of strength when you hit, but when you do, you sure know where to. You aim for the weak points, where it hurts the most, don't you? That's so cool, to see someone calculate their chances so precisely! Were you trained or something? You should teach me," he says, and you can't help but splutter a little bit, shaking your head.

"You're wrong! I wasn't trained, I just kind of had to learn for myself. I'm not from the best parts of town, yanno? You're up against a **very** dangerous girl," you respond, followed by a flirty wink shot his way and you see the blush creep up onto Eren's cheeks, making you laugh out loud.

On your back, you feel Captain Levi's pointed stare but you completely ignore it. No rules state that you're not allowed to get to know possible, future comrades. What's his deal?

"I'd like to see that. You being dangerous, I mean. At this rate, I'm sure you'll be able to join the Survey Corps in no time, even if you were admitted late into training. Better late than never, right? Team up with us, and we'll kill a shit-load of Titans! We'll be the group with the most kills total, and you can be our Joker card. The trick that nobody ever expects. We'll even outdo the Levi Squad." He says that with his chest puffed out, bright and confident but with a fire in his soul that burns steadily.

You admire him for that determination and motivation. He told you the reason why he joined the Scouting Regiment instead of the Military Police, or the Garrison. And honestly? You kind of sympathise with him, and maybe even Mikasa a little bit, because of that.

"Say?" Jaeger perks up, putting his hand on your shoulder as he watches you from his stance. "Join us for dinner so you can show off to the rest. Sasha, Connie, Jean, and Krista will most likely be there, too. Although Krista is kind of a fifty-fifty chance since Ymir is always around her and, you know, taking her away. What do you say?"

You pretend to think it over, and the boy gives your back a few encouraging pats as if to shift your decision towards a yes. Not that you'll ever say no to hanging out with them; despite your initial, aloof impression of them, they're quite a sincere bunch with each their own goals and dreams. It's something different, to be involved with this many people, but definitely not negative. While you appreciate solitude and space, which they're more than willing to give you, it feels nice to know that people got your back as much as you have theirs. Something rare where you're from.

"Hmm. Sure, I guess I have nothing better to do, huh?"

He laughs. "I like that answer, you're feisty. Then we'll see you tonight! I'll be leaving, I'm sure the Captain has things to discuss with you about our training today, too. Don't get into **too** much trouble!"

And this time, it's him who shoots you a wink, and you burst into charming, girlish giggles.

* * *

The raven female successfully lands a reverse roundhouse kick to your mid-torso which sends you flying onto the gravel, coughing and groaning in pain as your skin scrapes and bleeds. She really doesn't hold back, does she? Any stronger and you wouldn't have had any ribs by now, although you're quite convinced you felt something minimally crack. Maybe it's not broken yet but it definitely will be if she manages to hit you there again, so let's avoid that, you think.

Taking a few moments to gather yourself before standing up again, you take a defensive stance to face Mikasa.

You wait for her next move, unsure what it'll be. You figured out, more or less, that Mikasa's movements are at random so there's no way of telling when she's going to use what next. However, you have made a mental note earlier that she doesn't seem to aim for lower than the waist. Mikasa resorts to mid- and high kicks and punches, so maybe if she slows down from being tired, you can reel her in and knock her off of her feet.

Concluding that that's the best strategy, for now, you settle to defend yourself, blocking as many strikes as she throws your way. But you're running low on energy already, and frankly? You're not sure how much more you can withstand before you get the chance to actually defeat her. That, or you're going to have to admit to surrendering yourself. Not something that will help your case with advancing up the ladder, nor staying away from Levi.

As if on cue, Mikasa propels her leg up in the air, and with your mind in the right place, you duck and promptly shoot yourself forward to knock the front of your ankle against hers, hooking it and then pushing it towards. This successfully knocks her off of her feet and with the wooden knife provided by your superior, you point it at her. You're tired, sweaty, and grime clings to your body as you look down at her.

You expect her to be angry, maybe even dissatisfied to an extent, but instead, she meets you with a smile and a very soft _"well done"_ that falls from her lips only between you two. That's more praise than he's given you, and you know that she's not exactly the type of person that hands them out like pamphlets.

Chuckling to yourself, you reach out for her and then second she allows her hand to wrap around your lower arm, you tug her upright from the floor.

"You're a tough one, damn!" You exclaim. "But I feel like I've learned so much from you, so thanks. I'll try to incorporate it into my own, uh... style. I'm against Ymir tomorrow."

"Don't mention it. It's a pleasure to be able to showcase and exchange skills with someone else for a change. I guess I can see why you're being trained in such an extremely thorough way," her words are accompanied with a nod of her head. To somebody else, it might sound like she's saying that you're weak and that you need it, but after knowing her a little bit better, you comprehend that she's acknowledging your strength.

"Thanks, Mikasa. Means a lot. I feel like they're tearing me apart." With that, you smile sheepish, rubbing your sore bicep. "But hey, at least this ain't as bad as what Shadis put me through. I swear he enjoyed seeing me fail."

"Mhm. I wouldn't be surprised. Are you coming with us again tonight? You didn't yesterday. Jean almost had a breakdown, and Sasha ate your portion of food."

Yes, of course, as expected of the vacuum of the group.

"Yeah, I'll be there, no worries. I was just tired from the intensive exercising so I went straight to bed. Make sure Sasha doesn't lay a finger on my shit, yeah? I'll try to be as quick as possible, I don't feel like spending too much time with the, uh, Captain."

"Understandable." And with that, she leaves.

Understandable, huh? How very interesting. Perhaps you aren't the only one who has a similar distaste for a certain shrimp.

* * *

A sudden weight on you sends you nearly flying and panicking, and you want to make it for the gate. With or without the horse next to you.

Oh, _wait_.

It's only Zoë Hange greeting you, you're good.

"Hello, little dumpling! How have you been? I hope Captain Arm Re- I mean, Levi over there hasn't been giving you too much of a hard time," she nudges her head towards him before a grin breaks out onto her face; you're struggling not to snort and laugh at the nickname of choice, it's straight up savage.

"Though only positive feedback has been coming in... so I guess you can keep up with whatever he's dishing out on you. Tell me, are you excited!? I know this is like, what? The fourth or fifth time that you've gone outside the walls? But something tells me that today is going to be particularly interesting! So, what do you think, huh?" Her arm circles around your shoulders as she leans on you after pulling you closer.

"I'm sure it'll be a good day, as always, Leader Hange. I'm looking forward to learning more of your expertise with the gear, as well as tricks and tips on how to approach Titans best. I want to make sure I'm useful in the future," you mention, a little bashful around the woman, "especially with how much faith and effort everyone has been putting into me despite my initial rejection." You muster up a smile at her and you can physically see her eyes turn into heart-like shapes.

"What a darling good girl! I'm sure you'll do fabulous, don't worry. You already got a knack for the 3DMG, now all you have to do is beat us at it," she exclaims, then her laughter ensues and she gives you a pat to your opposite shoulder. You can't help but laugh with her, even though you really _do_ plan on outdoing them all in terms of skill and dexterity.

"Oi, shitheads. Enough with the fucking chatter, saddle your horses because we're about to get moving." A booming voice calls out to the both of you from behind before it's directed entirely at Hange, and you instead set your foot into the stirrup of the saddle before throwing your other leg over the horse's back, comfortably settling onto the seat.

He always has to ruin the good fun for people, doesn't he? 

"Tch. My squadron and Moblit will be joining us today, and you know that, right? We can't have you going crazy and chase after a Titan if we have a child to babysit," Levi declares but he never even looks at you, "you need to stay focused." Staying for another two or three seconds, he then leaves to take care of his own stallion.

He hasn't been seeking you all week. He's gone from purposefully taking advantage of situations in which he can mock you ever so subtly, to just... letting you exist on your own aside during the time he definitely needs to be there, such as right now. You haven't forgotten about last week, though, and you know that today is your chance to get back at him. No reason in particular other than the fact that his squad is going to be there to witness it all, and it'll make for a memory that he's going to be remembering until the day he dies.

Amid your bloodthirst-driven thoughts, Hange nudges your calf with her elbow, so you diverge your attention to her. "Yes, madam?"

"Do you think he's always so angry because he's the last one to know when it rains...?" She whispers, eyes big and innocent as she looks at you with wonder but you know that that backhanded, verbal slap is just a small bite back. A playful one. But.

 ** _PFFT-_** FUCK'S SAKE.

You double over and this time you really can't help your laughter. Affectionately tapping your leg encouragingly, Zoë then does as everyone else and she gets onto her horse. A genius with a sense of humour who picks on the captain without so much batting an eye, it's glorious. Although you have to wonder how these two have managed to cooperate and stay together in the same corps for such a long time and not have gone at each other's throats just yet.

In fact. They make a pretty good duo. It's mind-blowing, really.

"Hey! Hange, that's _mean_!" Petra yells from the back row. You can't help the eye roll as you straighten up again.

Petra Ral, member of the Special Operations Squad, selected by Levi himself to be in it. A woman of talent with a total of fifty-eight Titans killed, whereas ten of those were solo kills. Too nice for her own good. There's not much else that you're aware of about her, nor do you care to be. The only, less important thing to mention is that she's rumoured to be Levi's girlfriend of sorts since she seems to know so much about him, and if that's true then you've got some bad news for the damsel.

No. You don't involve yourself in a situation where you don't even know if the information is correct, to begin with.

* * *

You reach the forest right before dusk, the time that Titans start to become dormant. It takes a few hours by horse but nothing that just a small group can't pull through, and whatever Titan managed to cross you, those of the elite squad annihilated them in an instant. It seems outlandish, even to the other members of the Scout Regiment, to train a rookie outside the walls if there's a replica of that said forest at a safer distance from the training grounds without the man-eating dumb asses. However, due to the shortage of time and circumstances, the quicker they catapult you into reality, the better.

So here you are.

Moblit is in charge of the horses once you're deep, deep into the dark woods. As soon as you get the green light, you press the triggers on the handles and the grapple-hooks shoot out to anchor themselves into the tree barks and he retrieves the harras of horses one by one before setting off to a safer space.

Following suit are the very people who captured you on that fateful day five months ago, yet now are in charge of training you. Hange plays the role of the teacher today; she's good to play bait but expressed not wanting to spend more time outside the walls than needed if it means she's going to go back empty-handed. Levi accorded and put himself in her place instead.

And as everyone sits atop the robust tree branches, she makes sure everyone's listening before she starts her elaborate explanation.

"Since we, sadly, can't make use of the sleeping Titans as per usual, I came up with something that comes close to that for our eroded pearl," she looks at you. "You see, Titans are valuable to us, right...? I mean, at least to me they are, they teach us so much about how to further our knowledge and bring us closer to victory. So. Each member of the Levi Squad holds an item of merit of sorts, but not all of them carry it for reasons that will make more sense in a minute. Whether it's monetary value, utility, importance, knowledge or otherwise - they all have something that you most likely want or maybe even need. Whichever you capture last, you will get to keep the said item. Among these five things, there's an emerald pendant, a custom-made self-defence knife, a customised harness and 3DMG - they haven't been tested yet but you'll get them when they are -, the set date of which you will be admitted into the Survey Corps once and for all, and... a three-time-usage passage to the underground so you can visit the orphans! Exciting, right!?"

Your gaze immediately shoots towards the one in command at the mention of the last one, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but he doesn't respond to your silent accusation in the slightest.

Tree leaves rustle as a gush of chilly wind passes in between; you shiver as the temperature slowly drops for the evening. He probably tattled to an extent, but it seems absurd that they've let him have that one. Your attention is pulled back when Hange flings herself next to you, putting her arm around you out of habit.

"We don't know who has what, so don't make assumptions based on experiences with the members... I left them to pick for themselves without me being present! You see, it's just like when I capture Titans! I never know which one I'll have until I've captured them, hahaha!" She says, and somewhere behind you, you hear Oulo scoffing.

Fucking _sourpuss_.

"You get to pick in what order you'll capture them. That's the easy part. The hard part is actually catching them. Remember that you have to use and think in three parameters, they won't go easy on you, let me tell you that! They're ruthless," she whispers the last part and your eyes linger along the soldiers. You didn't need to be told that, the stories say plenty.

"Now, for the rules. If encountering an awakened Titan - most likely an abnormal -, you don't do anything but lead them to Squad Levi, okay? They're here for that reason, I also want to be able to hand-pick my test subjects! Only attack if it's in self-defence and most definitely necessary. It also goes without saying that you don't mince the people who so royally willed to help you guys out. Second, you're to stay within the area marked by Moblit, indicated with some bright tape we took from the shed where they have the vertical manoeuvring equipment. Number three, once you've captured the subjects, you're allowed to ask two questions of your liking so long they're not questions that force them to tell you who has what."

Holding three fingers near your face, you can only nod. It's up to you to figure out, to the best of your abilities, who has the most wanted item of your desire.

"I'll be taking notes in lieu of the captain, so do your best!"

Turning around on your heels, the bark crackles underneath your soles as the fresh air of nature fills your lungs. You give them all a once over, and as soon as Hange gives the mark, they're gone within seconds.

Well.

 _ **Fuck**_.

* * *

After a few hours, you've managed to defeat Gunther and Eld with Hange observing every time nearby. Right now you're looking for Petra. You know that Oluo is only second best to Levi, so those two can be left for last.

You have to be as silent as a church mouse, use your surroundings to your advantage to veil your presence as much as you manage. You're dangling on a tree, secured by the snares of your paraphernalia, observing your environment as much as you're able to. As soon as you look up into the finer branches, you notice a familiar logo settled upon the branches. You have to think quickly before their fight-or-flight instinct kicks in.

You do what's sensible and go straight for the chase. And just your luck, it is indeed Petra. Her eyes widen as soon as she spots you and her 3DMG whirrs back to life as she begins to slalom between the branches; to her advantage, her small physique and probably lighter weight allow her to move more freely than the others, especially since those who've been here for far longer have their core centred to the heavens.

You _"tch"_ as you chase after her, hurling yourself towards her in the least gracious manner. May it be by mistake or design that Lady Luck isn't on her side.

The chase thankfully ends as soon as it begins because as much of a smart woman she is, and as used to fighting titans as she is, her quick wit doesn't aid her the moment she heaves herself upwards further into the thinning trees. Intellect doesn't affect the natural state of trees, and mother nature isn't always what she seems.

The branch of choice seems sturdy enough from a distance but breaks apart when she tries to pierce it due to its fair hollowness caused by rotting and she loses balance the moment the cable doesn't fasten like she intended it to which allows you to propel your body with good momentum into hers and catch her in her fall before she has the time to rehabilitate.

Holding the petite girl in your arms, you allow yourselves to plunge a couple of metres down into the darkness for the sake of not encountering the same mishap. Letting the wires of your impedimenta to whizz past you, you land on the lowest part of the thickest tree and set her down without releasing her hands. You can hear Hange in the distance, not because she's speaking, but because of the gas and wires and footsteps.

"Well, aren't you lucky! If it wasn't for that old tree, you would've been chasing her for the rest of the night!" Zoë exclaims once she settles nearby, and you direct your attention back to Petra. She's smiling up at you with an almost beaming grin, and you want to know _exactly_ what's wrong with her.

"Well, well, don't mind me. I took notes that she's out, so you can let her go now," the redhead states, and in obedience to her words, you let go of the strawberry blonde's wrists. She rubs them slightly, looking up at you with a soft smile as if waiting for your next request. You really want to hate her, you do, because all she seems to do in your eyes is suck up to Levi and you absolutely despise people who kiss ass to get anywhere ever.

"Stand up. It's not really a question, I want to pat you down. It's not exactly against the rules to find out for myself whether you have something on you or not," you declare, looking back at Zoë who can only grin in mischief. Ral willfully stands up and holds out her arms. "Go on ahead! I guess that that makes it easier to determine who has what, right? Have you found anything yet?"

You step closer to her and excuse yourself as you remove her cape first, just to make things easier. "Eld had the knife. It was tucked away in one of the belts, sheathed. That means that it doesn't really matter whether I catch him last or not. If you have the emerald pendant, that means that there's a two-thirds chance that the remaining have what I want... if you don't, then that means only one of either of the remaining has it so I have to see which is more defensive. But that means that I still can't rule you or Gunther out... But if I have to judge based on character, you're the least likely to have it."

Delicate fingers trace along her muscles one by one as you inspect her body, patting pockets and feeling around her boots. To your response, a delighted hum coming from the girl as you move along. And indeed, you don't find anything.

"You're very smart," she speaks, draping the cloak back around herself, "the way you think is almost scary. The complete opposite of Captain Erwin, what a nice contrast! I can see why they haven't given up on you yet. Having you in the Survey Corps would be excellence, an honour almost." You look at her, confused.

"The day we arrested you in the underground, I was impressed with how well you mastered the 3DMG. Unlike us, you probably had no training in it but you still adapted your body to it, and you adapted the contrivance to your environment. Cities are usually not great for those things since the constructions are a hit or miss, and I can only imagine that infrastructure in the underground isn't the most stable. I couldn't help but think how good you did when you were fleeing!"

What, _hold the fucking phone_ , what is this you're hearing? Is she praising you!? Did she hit her head- _what_ is going on?

Your mind is boggled, but she continues talking.

"I am painfully aware that this is selfish," her eyes cast down, she takes your hand gently, "but I hope you don't think badly of us. We don't stand with the MPs, not for a second, but these orders came straight from Captain Erwin after they found out. Levi... as rough around the edges as he is, he's not a bad person, he's always been good guidance to us. And I'm sure he will be to you, too! I don't know a lot about him, he doesn't speak much about himself, but from what I **do** he's had a rough upbringing. He's rumoured to be from the underground, and... That's never good, I'm sure you understand," her gaze lifts again. Whatever comes next, you don't really hear, the epiphany that overcomes you is a far greater weapon than any other.

All of it makes sense.

* * *

Leaving Petra behind, you set off to the next person. It goes without saying who it is because even though you already have made your plans to absolutely decimate him in front of whoever would be here today, things have just gotten so much juicier thanks to Petra. The physical bloodbath has now turned verbal, and what better blade to use than the words on your tongue?

It's not that at the time they chased you through the air, some were less capacitated in dexterity than others. No. One of them is just more familiar with the environs of the city below Mitras, which is why he's been capable to corner you and bring you down. One by one, the puzzle pieces fall into each other.

The derision, the entire _"habits"_ jabs at your behaviour. These things barely existed, if at all, within the walls and above ground. Prostitutes? Sex in exchange for something else, not just money? Bribery? Only the most corrupt within the most inner walls are familiar with something so illicit. They see power, they want more of it. But Levi set a trap for you to walk right into: give him your body, and he would've granted you permission to travel down.

You haven't seen a man treat a woman as rough as he's treated you this entire time you've been out of shackles. But he? He's never had issues remaining indifferent towards both sexes, delivering punishment as it comes and not sparing anybody of the opposite sex from it. Or even decreasing the level of harshness just because the person has been a woman. Doesn't that just sound awfully familiar?

His rough, familiar speech which aligns perfectly with yours. And just the fact you've heard him tell the cadets that there's _"no real way telling right from wrong"_.

That night where, despite your fairly fresh familiarity with him, the fact that neither of you actually know each other beyond a superior-subordinate stance, he still let himself get so physically intimate with you for his own gain... It all just makes so much sense, it's so obvious to you that it feels almost deceptive.

No, that's not it. As deceptive as an obvious truth is, he's hidden it well. Between not responding to allegations and never talking about himself, he remains Delphic.

But you're not an imbecile either, and now that you are aware of all that? It feels like you should say _"it takes one to know one"_. He's in for a fucking treat.

You need to thank Petra later.

So with those thoughts in mind, you aim and shoot and swing to move forward and upwards until you're at a place where more or less you haven't been. You're deliberately looking for him, and even though Hange is hot on your heels, she doesn't seem to think much of it.

Between the trees, the starry night sky from outside the wall is hardly visible, and him being a shrimp aids in his hiding. But you know what doesn't? Movement, contrasting the silence of the landscape, so when you hear pistons releasing gas tension that's not behind you and the very quick dart of a silver line, you become aware that you're near your target.

Too bad that he's spotted you first, so he's already busy making a getaway. You wing yourself in his direction, a surge of anger and resentment coursing through your veins, leaving a particular feeling of hate-driven adrenaline in its wake. You're about to be reckless, but it's okay, you think, because all of this can just be a repetition of that day.

The tables have simply turned.

So you launch forward, using the green cape to hide the glistening metal of your equipage as much as you can. Ten minutes pass quickly as you simply observe his movements and use that time frame to perhaps throw him off a little, to make him wonder why you're not coming so directly at him.

And maybe it does, because he stops somewhere nearby for just a few seconds. And so do you, a little further away but still within earshot. You can't see very well, the moonlight doesn't make it this far down into the forest, but you're pretty sure he's glaring at you.

"What are you playing at, runt?" He questions, voice a growl, and you sincerely are unable to help the devilish smirk that curves your lips. Levi doesn't stop there, however. "We don't have **aeons** to be here playing these games of yours."

His stance becomes defensive and the metal gear rattles when he moves on his feet. You look around you, and then below you. Everyone, aside from Oluo, is present, even Moblit down below, and they are watching the scene unfold. Perfect, you think, right here. Right there, right now, you'll put him in his fucking place.

"Not to say that I misjudge your squadron's strengths, but you're the captain after all. If anybody has top tier speed, agility, skill, and everything else, then it's you, so I have to tread with caution."

The words you vocalise do nothing but raise further suspicion in him, you can tell, and you revel in the sound of the night breeze rustling in between the leaves, your hair blowing freely when it passes you.

"How could I **ever** outsmart that? Especially with my habits so ingrained in my roots, there's literally no way, right!? Since old habits die so fucking hard."

And at that moment, you draw your blades and shoot yourself at him at an alarming speed. He reacts on time, backing up but not quite escaping. So you stand on the same branch as he does, swords pointed downwards for now as you keep an imposing stance. You hear Hange in the background, something about not trying to kill the baits, but you don't hear it.

He's ready for combat just as much as you are, armed with his own weapons.

"Tell me, Levi, does it feel good? Does it feel good to see me shatter under ya? To play with me so mindlessly for your own amusement? Do you degrade everyone you take resentment to? Tell me. I wanna understand your sentiment, too," you begin. Neither of you moves.

His underlings are ready to pounce at the sight of you threatening him, but Zoë stops them, at least for now.

"Or are you merely taking your anger out on me because it feels like your past is coming back to bite you in the ass?"

You hear a gasp, possibly Petra.

Now that he's closer, you see the very brief surprise in his facial features prior to the squint he sports not seconds later. "Stop speaking nonsense, we're in the middle of an exercise. You're wasting time."

"Did I hit a nerve there?" You question him, a maniacal grin spread your lips as your teeth show in sheer amusement.

"It's a good thing that you don't talk much 'bout yourself. Imagine what the people would think of the Survey Corps as a whole if they knew that one of the people in charge was yet **another** piece of vermin from the most rotten place within the walls! But I never thought much of it, ya see. The lack of surnames, the uncanny insight you have of my- no, **our** city," you declare, your voice alarmingly calm in comparison to the turbulent chaos inside you. His gaze darkens and he threatens to move forward but you press on.

Even if it costs you your worthless life, right?

"The way you beat me over and over and left me nearly unconscious behind the dinin' halls. How you blatantly called me a whore twice even though in places like Shiganshina, Trost, Utopia, and probably even Stohess, it's almost impossible to find those dirty harlots. The humiliation from day one, even in the cell I was locked up in when you had your fucking cadets bring me over to my room... And never mind straight up, unabashedly having a problem with me 'cause I exist, when I never even did anythin' to cross ya! The only person fit of having such filthy personality traits is one from that disgusting place, isn't it!?" You roar.

He's clearly pissed off now, and if everything goes accordingly, his self-control should be minimal right now. Almost a week of scrutinisation, you have the right to say that you've come to be apprehensive of him a little bit better than before. At once, you pivot on your feet like a ballerina along the wooden surface you're standing on and you're thankful for being agile on them as you jump over to him, in the blink of an eye.

Blades clash, and you use your foot to kick one right out of its holster, but he doesn't go down without a battle. You saw it coming, really.

Using force to keep you back, you anchor your farthest foot down with your weight and using brute force you press and break through his defence barrier, sending the handle and sword flying before it dangles from his paraphernalia. He teeters, foot slipping and the painful face he makes tells you that he might've twisted it on the slippery moss, but he drops down with his chest heaving as he stares you down. Those glassy, austere eyes piercing yours.

But, this time, you have the upper hand.

The cutting edge of your weapon glides along his neck as it rests below his chin, and your condescending gaze is nothing sort of triumphant. Yet, it doesn't end there.

Behind you stands Petra, ready to fly at you but you point your free hand at her, posing a threat as you wield the sword.

"Stay the fuck away, this ain't your god damn issue, Cinderella. Take one more step and I'm plummeting you to your death, princess," you threaten darkly. "Though I have to thank you for the convenient information because otherwise, I would've **actually** killed him. You're no different."

"Petra. Listen to her. Cease and desist from here. Tell Zoë we're solving this between ourselves."

"But Captain! How can I simply—!"

"It's an order. Leave," he commands. Lingering for a few seconds, she grits her teeth and ascends back to being a bystander.

Your eyes are on Levi and you push his head up. The stares of the others are all on you two; for once they don't weigh down on your shoulders. Still, you sense how on edge everybody is because, at this moment, the vicious and volatile one is you. You feel superior.

"That's right, you're smart, you know how to read a situation quickly. How does it feel, to have your authority be demeaned in front of those who respect you the most, huh? Ya hate that the most, don't ya? 'Cause you look up to Smith so much, and you follow his orders loyally that you don't want people combating the established peace within the ranks if it's not necessary. Because unlike before, it's safe now. And that's why you hate me, 'cause I don't follow rules or hierarchical regulation and I learn from my own accord, I only play the part. For that reason, I never pretended to be the changed girl the others wanted to see. I'm not so easy to bend, Captain. So I ain't afraid of antagonising you in front of those still learning, putting my words against yours wherever need be. You tried to eliminate that in multiple ways but failed each time, 'cause it just wasn't the right choice."

"You don't know what you're **talking** about," he says calmly, breath steady, but his voice is laced in venom.

"I don't? Then why is it that it has been only on rare occasion that you've done it in front of others? The dirtiest tricks were left for private places, behind closed doors. 'Cause even if I tattled, you know that ain't nobody going to believe me, right? Because there's no way that the Corporal would do that. He seeks discipline through wrath but not to such an extent. ...right? But they don't know a damn thing! You and I are two sides of the same coin, and if you think that I know you wouldn't kill me where I stand if you had the choice, you're going to have to try and convince me harder."

"I would," he confirms and you press your sword further against his throat, ready to slice. "But you had a choice and you chose the easy way to obtain what you wanted. I only stopped you where you stood."

 ** _Ah_**.

There it is again. The feeling of inferiority that overrides the smugness and sense of victory of finally being able to return him the favour, the flavour of being nothing in comparison to those who currently stand with you, and even less when you stand before this man. Unbeknownst to you, tears glide down your cheeks and you only feel angrier.

You result to petty insults and mindless threats.

"You look fucking pathetic. Twisted ankle, on your ass, in front of someone who ain't even a cadet yet. Your comrades? Unable to help ya. 'Cause yeah, y'all might be skilled but so am I. And it wouldn't be the first time I take on a group."

Sheathing the sword, you walk closer to him as he remains quiet. You're unable to read him properly in your state of mind, but you are sure that he's not going to try anything right now. Not at this time of the night, in such a dangerous place.

Pushing back your leg, you swing it forward and hit him right on the jaw, feeling his bones uncomfortably shift through the leather of your uniform boots. An ear-deafening screech is heard behind you, and you hear someone near you. Crouching, you force his head back by grabbing his hair.

"Are you done? Did you have your little outburst?" He croaks, empty hues staring at you as blood drips from his mouth. This son of a bitch never changes, does he!?

You're ready to attack him again, but you're stopped in your tracks.

" **Enough**!" Shouts a voice behind you, and you're pulled away forcefully from the raven in an instance. You don't put up a fight, the sudden weariness bringing your defences down. Have you been so tired all along?

Glancing as Oluo descends, Petra and Eld help their leader up onto his feet, the former aiding him in support with his hurt leg.

"We're stopping here today! I think she's had enough of it as well," Zoë points her eyes at you. "I didn't come here to play relationship counsellor, we're heading back. Moblit is waiting below, you guys head first. Look after the commander, clear the area of any titans. You two are crazy bastards."

"Yes, madam!" They call in unison, except for the jet black haired man. He peers at you briefly, and you try not to be intimidated by the strong gaze in his eyes.

When you're both alone, Zoë makes a point to shake you as violently as she can, probably trying to knock some sense into you. "What's gotten into you!? Didn't I tell you not to fight them!? This wasn't the time to resolve your personal issues with Pipsqueak! We came here to train, and while I admire you for being able to stand so solidly on both your feet up against someone like him, I need to reprimand you for interrupting the schedule, you know!"

You don't want to cry, but in the arms of Hange, you break down entirely. The strain he's put on you finally breaks the dam, and now that you're alone with someone you genuinely trust, you need to let it out. Fingers comb through your messy hair, and she sighs heavily as she holds you in her arms.

"There, there. I don't know what happened, but let's get going... we'll have to deal with this tomorrow, too, but I think between the sudden change of everything and Levi's brazen nature, you're exhausted even beyond my understanding."

And for all it's actually worth, you feel content when you arrive, and she helps you through your nightly routine before bed. Zoë gently offers to request a day off on your behalf but you decline. You might have ruined any chances of a future but Levi now might know better than to mess with you.

It might have taken a toll on your state of mind but knowing that you finally retaliated, you sleep as you've never had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF. HELLO. I'M HAPPY YOU MADE IT. ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰
> 
> Is your brain fried? Because mine really is. I think what really pulled me through the last part is the No Glory song in the playlist for this story because I was ready to throw in the towel. The lyrics don't have that much correlation, to be honest, but the sound of the song is very driven towards the feeling I was trying to obtain for the part. Hope it didn't fall flat. (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑
> 
> I don't have much to say today, aside from promoting my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/denkicito) again (I need friends, please come love me), and my [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/denkicito) in case anybody has questions or suggestions.
> 
> Tomorrow's April's Fools, guys, don't be too much of a jackass to other people but I definitely want to know what kind of pranks y'all going to be pulling. (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ))
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! ♡ I'd say _"see you next Sunday"_ but we all know that that's a lie. Hope you all had a nice weekend and thank you for reading!!
> 
> EDIT: Was it too much for her to play into his insecurities? I watched a 30-minute long video on Levi the other day where the guy mentions that one of his biggest "flaws" is "never making the right choice" and leading to shitty consequences (reader kicking him in the face as he did with Eren, being humiliated in front of his peers as she has been, etc) and I was... wondering?? What do you guys think of this? I FEEL LIKE I'VE OVERDONE IT, I'M... OTL


	7. Hedonism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grr, yay, smooch, and a nice surprise. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I'm not going to put warnings because they're already up there. If you can't handle that shit then why's you here?

"𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒.  
𝑆𝑜, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛,  
𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒,  
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑝 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒."

* * *

* * *

You wake up the next morning in a daze. A dream...? No. The heaviness of your limbs tell you that it's been a very real occurrence, and suddenly you don't know how to feel.

Groaning at the rays of sunlight directly hitting your face, you tug the duvet further over your head to shield yourself from them. You hate being compassionate, you hate the fact that unlike the many soldiers throughout the entire military, you can't just toss away your feelings even if for a moment, not to regret the choices you make.

You aren't regretting anything. Levi definitely got served what he deserved. The thing is that your subconscious is still wondering whether you took it a tad too far or not. Yes, he insulted you and he mocked you endlessly, made sadist fun of you. But he's never tried to hit home and you've just gone off on everything about him that you probably don't even have a right to know.

You want to hide away from the brightly lit world, and just pray that you're the one who's made the right choice right now.

Hold on. ... **Sun**?

You gasp, sitting up in your bed abruptly as you look behind you, towards the window in bewilderment. From what you can tell, it's past noon, and if you recall correctly, you explicitly told Hange that **no, you didn't want a day off**. So right now this means that you've missed at least the morning training.

Stumbling out of bed, your foot hooks in the duvet as you fall over to the floor with a dry thud, nearly smacking your face in the process. Ouch, shit, your knees definitely felt that. Hardwood flooring isn't exactly forgiving.

Kicking it away, you stand up once again and rush to find your uniform. You still have to go to the bathroom, so you only wear your shirt and trousers, fixing your hair as quick as you can. Putting your socks on, you neatly tuck the legs of your trousers into them before hopping into your boots.

You're almost out of breath first thing getting out of bed, that's oughtta turn out great for the rest of the day.

Tugging the harness from the chair, you curse as you realise that parts of it go around your feet. Well, you put it back on the desk chair, before you dart out of your room. Quick, quick, quick. No fucking time, you're plenty late as it is.

But the second you set foot outside of your room, you're caught by the collar of your button-up and you choke as you bounce in your step.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, runt? Never mind the fact that you didn't show up at all, we need to talk," you hear from behind you and, for once, the voice that sounds neither makes your blood boil or freeze. It's a bizarre sensation. You don't respond.

"In," he orders, and back into your room you go. Levi follows right behind.

You scurry to put the duvet more or less neatly on your bed, at the minimum, instead of letting it dangle like a torn potato sack of the edge of the lower bunker bed. You don't take a seat until he does, and when he goes on to sit on the chair, you snatch the harness away and toss it onto the bunk above yours.

Plopping down on the mattress, you don't have the gall to initiate the conversation. In fact, in your **humble** opinion, you're not sure there's anything to talk about in the first place. You both did what you had to, and that's all there is to it. So you sit in ear-deafening silence and it's only then that you take notice of the fact that he's not dressed in his uniform.

Bronze, military jacket replaced by a vantablack suit jacket that drapes effortlessly and graciously over his shoulders, and the archetypal white button-up shirt is discarded for a more informal grey blouse of an almost identical kind with a looser fit, but the cravat is never missing. From what you can see without staring too much, the trousers correspond to the jacket. And one last thing:

Everything looks so fucking **expensive**.

His canorous voice makes your hues dart up to his visage at once.

"Where do I begin?" He crosses his legs, a single arm leaning on the bureau nonchalantly as he laces his fingers in contemplation. "Official issues should be put outta the way first. I talked to Erwin about this privately and told him nearly everything that has happened until now, including the incident in the forest; I had my squad testify as witnesses. After hours of hellish deliberating, we have come to the conclusion that you'll face temporary suspension from the Survey Corps and thus your entrance will be delayed by a month. I laid it out as a reaction to my own selfish provocation as to avoid indefinite expulsion; I carry blame in this, too."

Your shoulders slouch and you sigh in defeat. That's to be expected but hearing it is definitely something else, and absolutely disappointing. However, in spite of everything and every fibre of your being detesting the man in front of you, you have to give it to him, he's very self-aware and knows when to owe up to things. He's an ass, but a level-headed one.

"Well, ain't that just fucking great," you comment, bored.

He ignores that and continues. "You're still under my supervision, as well as Hange's. Your training has been suspended as well."

The nerve of this system they operate under, who thought of this?

"Your punishment is entirely up to Erwin, and he'll call you in when he's done pondering and puzzling. You can count on him being merciful, he's not fond of punishing people for having their own norms and values. At most you'll be put behind bars for about a month."

"I guess that that's something I should thank him for, then?" You ask, and it sounds more sarcastic than necessary—or rather, than you intended—so all Levi does is cast you a look before deciding that _"it's up to you, it's none of his business"_. You think that that's a pretty fair approach, but considering that Smith's being lenient even though he doesn't have to be, you're sure to try your damn best.

"But I can assure you that he's not about to let you rot there, even though I suggested he should. This is all for the show, simply to make sure that nobody else is insubordinate. As much as **_you don't like it_** , that's how shit functions around here, and I hope that you don't make me mince you into pieces later on. Obey, and shut up."

You slam your hands down and shoot a glare at the corporal sitting in front of you, rising to your feet. "This is beyond obedience and insubordination! This has barely anything to do with the military as it is, it's you being a god damned nuisance!" You retort, clenching your fists as you feel your nails dig into the skin of your palm.

Levi's head tilts back a little, and your eyes are met with a blazing inferno burning in his. If looks could kill, you'd be dead where you stand. But again, as per usual, you press the matter because you want to bring him to his knees.

"I can accept physical punishment for being late with no issues, but you've gone beyond that. Without knowing me you've degraded and humiliated me, and even on a captain-subordinate level, it's still outta the question since it's not allowed. You said pain is the most efficient manner to discipline someone, but I don't recall what you did to me that night being, y'know, pain."

His eyebrow raises and you find that gesture irritating. It takes all of your might not to slap him across the face. He looks like he's about to say something and honestly? That alone is enough to make you try and ground yourself because you have a hunch that it'll be something you don't quite want to hear.

"Oh, I don't remember," he deadpans, "enlighten me."

"Intimate relationships among members are _absolutely_ prohibited lest disrupting the workflow. You know that! Ain't no convincing me that you don't and you still had the nerve to engage in one just to take the piss out of somebody," you growl, fist slamming back against the wooden leg of the bunker.

He doesn't even flinch at your little wind-up; settles for looking at you with those perplexing slate blue eyes, that you've come to recognise as an undaunted rivalry, as you exasperatedly drop yourself back unto your bed. Digits run between your locks as you push your hair back.

You really are too fucking tired to get angry anymore.

"There was no reason for you to do that t'me," you say.

"Indeed," he agrees, and you look at him incredulously. "I just wanted to see how far you'd go to obtain something, that's all. Everyone has something to abandon when they're given the choice to, but it depends on the person when it comes to how much they'll actually drop. For you to blame me for the shit choice you made, I don't agree with that."

Your jaw drops. Fury rises in your veins again and this time you come closer to him, stomping your way over. "Excuse me, captain, but aren't you the one who started it all!?" Your voice raises, hand planted on the backrest of the chair for leverage as you stare him down with disdain lingering between your voices.

"Aren't you the one who started taking her clothes off without hesitation?"

And as if by reflex, you slap him straight across the face. Embarrassed, ashamed, regretful. "The fuck are you trynna imply with that, you fucker?"

"That you were willing. You might've had the will of a brat to fight back when I've shit on your parade thrice over, but that's the only time you submitted instantly to what you were given. Dare I say you even _wanted_ it, runt."

You're beyond irate, you've ascended to the next level. He's berating you so freely but what has you cross the most is the fact that he's right, so you reach to grab him by the collar of his shirt. The black piece of garment glides down his shoulders and drops to the floor. Those blue eyes of his indicate nothing but the smirk, ever so subtly present and curving his tiers shows you that he feels triumphant.

You pull him in, nearly lifting him from his seat. "I'm willing to withstand whatever bullshit of yours you wanna throw my way for your piss-poor excuse of entertainment, but don't go so far as to flatter yourself by saying that I wanted anything from you. The only thing I desired at that moment was the possibility of visiting the underground after nearly half a fucking year. I wouldn't willingly fuck you even if you paid me like a whore," you declare with certitude before letting him go.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't spend my salary on something cheap. I'd rather eat shit than sully my hands by putting them near you," he bites back, picking up the fallen jacket as he dusts it off. Getting up, he walks towards the door. "You will meet up with Erwin on Monday."

And with that, he leaves you pushing your pillow to your face before giving it a few good punches imagining that it's his face.

* * *

Not wanting to spend your entire day in unforgiving sentiments of ire, you went out to look for your... friends. It feels almost strange calling them that, it feels foreign on your tongue.

By chance, you encounter Jean who's ready to leave and, upon request, he's been more than willing to spend the day with you. You know the boy has a crush on you, it's as clear as day, but you never thought more of it nor did you really care to make a show of it. You know that it'd embarrass him to some degree, and frankly? It's not worth risking the friendship over. He can come forward about it if he wants you to know.

All the recruits have to seem retreated already and you don't know what to make of it. Although to be fair, nobody's currently preparing for an expedition so everything is pretty much on standby. Cadets are most likely to have headed home.

"Why are you wearing your uniform, though? Did you have training this morning? But Ymir got told there was no need to go. I know she got picked for you to train with on the sixth day..." He says, and the arm he keeps around your shoulder feels nice. Like a safe haven of sorts. Unabashed and perhaps due to your lack of upbringing and modesty as a damsel, your own snakes around the boy's waist and his cheeks flare red.

You don't comment on it, instead, you answer his question as you kick a pebble on the ground with your foot. "Well, because I don't have any other clothes. This is the only thing I've been given and I never really needed anything else since it's been so hectic. You guys get days off, I don't. I have to "earn" them, they say," you scoff. "But even so, I haven't gotten any."

"Then how about we go shopping for some clothes? There's bound to be some shops in Trost where you can find something, right?" He offers. "We can also stack up on snacks while we're there or something."

Jean Kirschtein, middle names? _"Painfully Obvious"_. Between Mikasa yesterday telling you how he panics when you don't show up and now him just being so **blatant** , you have your chance to tease him a little and you'll take it, your smile now turning into a cheeky grin.

"You asking me out on a date? Because that's what it sounds like to me. You gonna hold my hand, too, when we're there?"

He splutters through his words, flustered but never removing the arm that rests along your frame. You give his waist a squeeze before pulling his beanstalk-looking-ass along, taking the longest strides.

"To the city, we go!" You cheer and he laughs, trudging along with you.

* * *

By the time you return, you've changed into a black, knee-length skirt and a white button up-shirt—courtesy of the little old lady who let you change in the shop's fitting room after paying—and curfew is in only about an hour. He's carrying the bags of snacks as you carry the bags full of items of clothes. At some point, you've wanted to tell him that you weren't going to wear them much considering your imminent punishment but you've not had the heart to. Jean's been entirely ebullient and mirthful the entire day and you didn't want to dampen his mood so soon. Yet, at the same time, you don't want to leave them in dark again about where you've been or why you've been missing. Did they worry enough when you only missed your meals, you can only imagine when you go missing for an entire month.

"Let's just eat here, we got enough for both of us to eat. Dinner's passed so I doubt we'll get even a piece of bread."

Hues wander to his ash-coloured mop of hair and you nod, dropping the bags on the floor and you stretch. You're right outside of the stables, on the lateral. You hear the horses inside. "Don't think your family likes me very much, Kirschtein," you deadpan as you stare up at him, face void of any emotion.

"Hey!" He protests, sitting down next to you and you burst into joyous laughter at his comical, somewhat tragic expression. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I could never say that and be serious. You might be as tall as a beanstalk but you're still one of the more handsome faces within the Scout Regimen," you mention and he drops some candy apples on your lap.

"Oh yeah, who's the rest?" He inquires, leaning closer as he raises his eyebrows. Any more and they'll fly away from his forehead. Tucking your finger between your thumb and index, you exaggerate your pondering for a few seconds. "Well, Commander Erwin's quite the looker. Number one for me, definitely."

Kirschtein's face falls flat.

"Seriously? That thumb-looking ass? I expected better." You smack his arm playfully, and he snorts. "Maybe Reiner? Marco, Eren, Ymir, and Krista." Listing them off on your fingers as you name them, not even you are sure. You take a bite of the sweet, Jean looking absolutely displeased with your answer.

"Well. Not _everyone_ can have good taste. I'm surprised you didn't mention Captain Levi. All women seem to go crazy over him, and really, I can't even see why. I mean! Even Connie is taller than him!"

You pretend to wretch. "Levi? May the guardians of the Holy Walls have mercy on my soul because **_fuck no_**. I don't see what everyone's swooning about, especially when he's nothing but a demon."

In the stall, you hear the hay rustle as a horse neighs. Swear to God that it's probably Levi's stallion trying to object what you just said. But unlike that savage beast, that particular stallion is of magnificent beauty. How any of that fits together, you don't know - the corporal is undeserving of such beauty.

"Right!?" He jumps up. "I've always thought he was questionable! But because everyone's always kissing his ass, I thought I was the odd one out being weird. Sure, he has skill but anyone can achieve that. I can't see what's so good about him." Long legs are crossed at the ankle as he leans back against the metal, ribbed wall of the stable. You nod and hum in agreement.

"He's... a horrible person. Like! I'm not fucking great or whatever, I can be a piece of shit, but because of his idiocy, I'm gonna have to absent for a month." Figuring that this is the best segway into mentioning it, you shift uncomfortable, feeling the weight of honey orbs boring into your fucking soul.

"What do you mean?" There are urgency and worry in his voice.

Heaving a sigh, you twirl the stick of the candy between your nimble digits. "I'm going to face punishment due to insubordination and non-compliance during my training yesterday, and most likely also for breachin' the code of conduct by failing to show up for today's training. I didn't wanna mention it, but... you've done so much for me today so I thought at least you should know." Laughing apologetically, you face him for a moment.

"...don't seem like the type to simply break rules, what happened?" He murmurs quietly.

"Captain Levi, what else? I'm not..." The way you begin speaking but have the words instantly die on your tongue has Jean looking your way inquisitively, curious. But there's also a glint of malice; not towards you. Heaving a sigh, you cross your legs as you lean forward with your elbows sitting on your knees. You've lost appetite. "I ain't supposed to mention this since it's confidential and whatever but I didn't join the Survey Corps 'cause I wanted to. I come from the underground and about five months to half a year ago, Squad Levi arrested me for partaking in illegal deals of manoeuvre gear transportation. I spent the following four months in prison in Stohess but after a lot of excruciating disputing, Commander Erwin managed to gain reign over me against my will. Ever since I've met Captain Levi, he's been crossing me which results in me crossing him. Don't really know his motives nor do I care but he's taken that shit too far."

Dropping your head, that feeling of exasperation comes back to you. Feeling the weight of a hand on the small of your back, you smile to yourself before you continue. You've told this much, you might as well tell everything. You need an outlet, someone you can confide in and not be judged based on where you come from or what's made you but your choices as an individual, and you know you can trust Jean with that. He's somewhat clueless at times, but he has his morals intact.

"I had a go at him yesterday for several reasons, and I have issues resolving my pent up anger by myself. The first time was a few weeks ago when I started this intensive regime, he resorted to somatic punishment and beat me up behind the dining hall barracks. Insulted me and degraded me on multiple occasions after that, and the last drop was when he... when he... let's say he got a kick out of seeing me being willing to give anything just to see the people I care for again after such a long time and then humiliated me."

The male curls the fingers of his free hand into a fist whilst rubbing your back soothingly. Pulling you into his chest, the two of you lay quietly. Initially expecting a reaction of repulsion after mentioning you're from the rotten city, you're thankful that Jean just isn't that type of person.

It's very much past curfew, but here it's unlikely that anybody will notice your absence. It might be written off as simply having gone home or something. The superiors aren't as strict when the soldiers get time off, but you don't want him to get in trouble because of you.

Yet, his warmth is so inviting and you can't help but lay still in his embrace. Long fingers run through your hair as nails gently scratch against your scalp.

"I'm not sayin' I'mma saint, I've done my fair share of shit. I've used my word against his since the very first day and I've mocked him just as much, but—"

You're silenced instantly when his hand grasps your chin and he tilts it upwards, his own head craning downwards your lips collide. You can tell it's impulsive by nature, very unlike him, and it takes you by surprise.

Without having time to react, he's already decreased the proximity between your lips. Blinking rapidly, you can only gaze into his eyes as he does into yours. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have but you don't have the heart to tell him off.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I trust who you say you are," he denotes before planting another kiss, a smooch.

" _Romantic_ , Kirschtein."

Your eyes widen, paralysed. Fucking Lord above, this guy always appears when least called for.

"I _really_ have to babysit your fucking ass day in, day out, don't I? You're always running off to do something that you shouldn't be doing, like a fucking child. Every damn time I find you, you're up to some shit worse than the last time. I keep being told by Hange _"you're just too hard on her"/i >, _"you need to try and see things from her point of view"_ , _"give her time"__... But now you're trying at it with the damn cadets?"

Standing up, Jean pulls you mostly behind him. And you're thankful, you legitimately don't have the energy to be fighting Levi right now.

"Captain, if I may, she did nothing. With due respect, sir, but you shouldn't make accusations so quickly. I initiated it."

"Tch, is she rubbing off on you? Take your shit and get to the barracks. ** _Now_** ," the raven demands darkly, and even though the younger man clearly hesitates, you push him gently. "I'll be fine. Go, don't get into more trouble because of, or even for, me," you encourage him.

"How sweet, taking the blame for your sweetheart, aren't you?"

The younger male ignores his comment entirely and doesn't take anything aside from the food he was eating earlier, glare like a dagger before he retreats into the dark of the night. Goodness fucking gracious, and your day had been going so well. Circling around you menacingly, you stand in the middle with nothing to declare, letting him have his way. Truth be told, you have no intentions of disobeying or arguing.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

When he next speaks, from right behind you, there's animus of some kind twined between his words. You don't recognise it so brush it off as one of his default, pissy moods. "Intimate relationships among members are absolutely prohibited lest disrupting the workflow, was it? Then what were you doing, you insolent brat?"

You sigh in unalloyed defeat.

"Engaging in an intimate relationship with another cadet, sir," you reply without missing another beat. Bothering to explain the fact that you didn't intend to allow him to do it is out of the question, it's certain that he'll focus on what you didn't do.

You feel a very strong arm press against your shoulder, making you stiffen up where you stand. His rich, deep voice close to your ear as the vindictive grip turns tighter and the tip of his digits dig into the bone, making you hiss. "You got some good fucking nerve to try and reprimand me for something you do not hours later, little hellion."

"Just tell me the fuck you want from m—" You gasp, unable to finish the sentence as you're yanked by the upper arm through the night. "Wait, wait! For fuck's sake, I said _wait_!" You violently pull him back and that seems to stop him in his tracks more than your verbal protest. With no signs of letting go, you pull him with you to collect the bags on the floor. You aren't about to let your precious money be wasted just because Captain Hissyfit doesn't think it's important.

"Really?" He asks, bored, before he's setting off with you again, beelining to the headquarters, the building where his studio is and you feel dread creeping up your spine.

* * *

It doesn't take long to arrive, and as he graciously swings the door open, he roughly pushes you inside of the room, confining you with himself once he allows the lock to click in place. That's when you realise that there's no escaping from Levi, no matter where you try to run.

The only off-thing that you pick up on is the sweet, lingering smell of... tea?

"So," he starts. Your eyes dart towards his physique. The obsidian, single-breasted suit jacket gliding from his shoulders right into his grip as he shrugs it off nonchalantly. Golden buttons on the overlap of the slit of the sleeves glimmer against the warm-toned light in the room and he neatly puts it down, folded over the wooden chair you've sat on before.

Only now do you notice that he's wearing gloves, and from what you can tell in the dark room, they're leather gloves with thick top-stitching which means that their quality ensures durability. That's how clothes are often made in the underground: tightly woven, triple-stitched textiles for the sake of having them last longer, particularly if one engages in brawls often.

And you can tell that the leather is worn, and it makes your defences stand high.

"You and Jean Kirschtein, huh?" Fingers pull said leather off as he strides past you in all his unshaken glory and he drops them on his empty desk. Déjà-vu hits you like a truck when he sits down in that comfortable chair of his, and once again, you stand in the middle of the room. It's like a repetition of a few nights ago.

"An odd combination. Didn't take you for someone who'd have an interest in younger men but it seems you're a damn minx. What is it about 'em that's got you so good? Their stamina?"

"They're more capable of being straightforward with what they want," you retort bitterly even though you genuinely didn't see the ash-blond adolescent as more than a friend, and here he is, once again, making it out to be as if you two are sleeping together. "Or it's a you-habit, who the fuck knows, _Captain_?"

Fingers drum almost impatiently on the oak bureau. "You were being so docile before, runt, what happened to that? You bare your teeth so fucking quick sometimes, it's tiring. Especially when I can't take my god damn eyes off of you for a second, when are you going to grow up? These aren't the slums anymore, you can't do as you please and expect no repercussion," he divulges with a tone leaving no room for objections.

Beckoning you over, you know the drill. Putting the bags neatly aside, you clench your fists into the black, feminine skirt as you walk over towards him, the sole of your boots soft enough to nearly mute your steps.

The fact that he stands up only ensures that you don't come too close, but Levi's demeanour shifts dangerously and the reminder that he's a demon veiled thinly in sweetness sits at the back of your head.

Delicately, unnervingly so, he takes your hand with his, your palm resting in his. Spinning you around, he presses the small of your back against his chest and your mind just short-circuits for a brief second. But you don't dare to protest, knowing that so long you don't give in, he will be forced to keep his derision to himself.

A very strong, possessive arm slinks around your frail waist and he pulls you in with such force that you stumble back, the proximity maxed as he's pulled you as physically close as the physics of the world allowed. What's he up to?

He brushed your hair away from your nape, and you almost purr. Truth be told, anybody playing or touching your hair has always been a weakness.

But what comes next is a different story entirely.

He's taken the liberty of sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck, and the sensation that lingers between fright and pleasure triggers a reaction from you that's very much unknown. A million thoughts pass through your mind but the timeframe you're given to figure them all out is too small to make that a reality. His lips are adorning your sensitive neck with little kisses that leave a fiery sensation in their wake, and you're hissing at the confusion in your head.

Why did that feel so good, and why on God's green fucking earth do you want more of that? For fuck's sake.

Your body is betraying you, not backing up the words that you so confidently told him this morning, and yet a sense of relief washes over you because if his words are holding any more truth than yours, he wouldn't have dirtied his hands on you. Your head lulling to the side, exposing your neck for him as he trails the kisses up to your earlobe and your head is swimming, eyes losing focus as your jaw goes slack.

What type of man has this effect on you? It's ludicrous.

"You piss me off," he growls into your ear. "Everything you do is a nuisance and everything you are is an eyesore." But his actions contradict his words as his hand drifts up along your stomach, past the arm he's using to trap you and wraps around your delicate throat, wedged between his thumb and his index finger like a perfect fucking fit. He squeezes, deliberately applying plenty of pressure to cut off your airway, and it sends tantalising prickles down your spine.

"Makes two of us, don't it? I think you're a nuis—"

"Quiet, brat. I didn't give you any fucking permission to speak."

You oblige.

Rolling your lips between your teeth, you nod as well as you can. You don't want to actually be asphyxiated to death, even if the feeling of struggling for air doesn't displease you. Not to mention, you're beyond thankful that it's past the hours of anybody's curfew otherwise you'd be found in this compromising position with Levi, of all people, and in his office—not even his own bedroom. Notwithstanding, like the last time, he's popping the buttons of your new shirt open but, this time, he undoes them all by himself before turning you around.

Met with gleaming, chromium eyes tinged with unmistakable nympholepsy and libido as high as the sky, your hair is pulled and your head is forced into an uncomfortable position as he indulges himself in marring your alabaster skin with love bites and bite marks. And you swear you can feel the dark bruises scattered along bloom as he continues to break the vessels underneath the flesh.

You initially had made plans for tomorrow with Jean to meet up with Eren, Armin, and Mikasa but with the way he's leaving his mark on you so unforgiving, it's going to be impossible considering you'll be questioned.

Carnal, feral, territorial.

You're trying your damn hardest not to let out a moan, shifting uncomfortably where you stand as a distinct, hot feeling settles between your thighs and all of a sudden you're pulling your legs together in hopes of diminishing the need for his touch there. Your breathing is erratic, and you have half a mind to notice that so is his, therefore taking the unabashed initiative to sneak your fingers underneath his shirt, feeling every curve and edge of his defined, toned stomach.

His threatening chuckle makes you shudder, strong hands getting hold of your slim wrists as he holds them in place behind your back. Your lips brought into rough collision as he takes your breath away, chin between his fingers and the only thing you can do is try to struggle to free your hands from the clutch he has on you.

If he wants a fucking fight, he'll get one.

That thought doesn't last very long, Levi is unrelenting and domineering.

So those thoughts instantly fly out of your mind when his imposing demeanour forces you into submission by taking control of the kiss, his tongue savouring the taste so uniquely yours that you have no choice but to let him. Without breaking contact, Levi pushes you against the desk, your whimper is muted by the kiss as you're ploughed against it with no remorse.

You pull away. "That fucking hurts, you damn bastard," you whimper but he takes your chin between his fingers and claims your lips as his once more.

Pushing your knee between his leg, you feel him straining against the trousers of his suit, and your mind is suddenly overtaken with thoughts of how much you want to please him. Needy to draw a reaction from him, you push a little harder and that successfully elicits a guttural groan that you swallow.

He breaks the kiss, his and your lungs burning for oxygen as you breathe heavy, lidded eyes watching his glossy, now somewhat reddened lips. Bringing your head forward, you bite his lower lip and this makes him grunt. Pulling away from you to speak, his hand returns to your throat. "Be obedient, princess, or I'll make sure you can't sit the fuck down tomorrow."

Fuck. You felt that.

Swallowing thickly, you nod.

Still. You're teetering between obedience and rebellion and while your mind is desperately clinging to rebellion, your body just wants to entirely give in to the pleasure. The forgotten, open shirt regains attention from him as his hand trails up along your skin in a ghostly manner and up to your bra. Pushing past the wired garment as he pinches your sensitive nipple and you're ashamed of the moan that falls from your lips, calling his name.

This spurs him on, making him tear the remaining of the top and undergarment right off of your body. "Levi, what the fuck!" You cry, knowing you have nothing else to replace it with right now and you're not ready to head to the barracks topless once you're done over here. His response is nothing short of indifferent. "Don't fucking care, love, not my problem. I'm sure you'll find a way," he says and you irritatedly flex your wrist down to scratch his hand with your nails. "Feisty brat," he notes before carelessly flinging you around and slamming you face-first down into the desk.

"I really suggest you behave. Look at you. Your skin is hot all over, and you're already moaning like a whore. Tell me, are you sure you don't want this?"

"Fuck you," you spit.

"Hmm?"

Bending your arms at the elbows, he pulls at them as if to nearly dislocate them and it takes all of your willpower not to scream in sheer pain from the brute force he uses, his feet knocking against your ankles as he pries your legs apart forcefully. He keeps you bent down where he wants you, your hips automatically pushed out from the position he's manhandled you into and you feel your face heat up against the coolness of the wood with shame at the state he's put you in. Presented to him, powerless to do anything.

But you really don't fucking dislike it.

"Watch your rotten mouth," he warns with a voice as cold as ice.

His unoccupied hand finds home tracing your inner thigh in a slow manner once he's heaped the cotton textile of your skirt on the curve of your back, and your muscles tense because it's all happening at once and you've never even done this with someone your age, let alone an older man who's your superior, undoubtedly more experienced, and not to mention your fucking archnemesis ready to murder you at any other time of the day.

Levi continues, and your chest tightens. If he doesn't fucking touch you right now, you're going to fucking kill him later.

Digits press against your soaked panties, immodestly dragging them, and you're pretty sure you're about to lose your fucking mind. He finally releases your wrist from his grasp and you're curling your hands in vain against the hard surface for some sort of leverage. Leverage for your fucking sanity.

" _Please_ ," you beg. For what? Anything. Anything that he's willing to give you, just like the other night where he was toying with your uniform, he can toy with your pussy right now.

"Please?" The smugness in his voice makes your blood boil. In a vain attempt to stand upright, he forces you down once again with a hand pressing on your mid-back, the other making quick work of pushing your panties out of the way as his fingers press against your clit, slowly rubbing circles. Your legs feel like they're about to give in.

"Please, what? Nearly fucking killed me and threatened my comrade the other day only to be begging for pleasure tonight? Talk about fucking pathetic."

You don't care. You don't give a shit about what he's saying, let him have his victory, but you need to feel his fingers, you need to cum. You're desperate, your body feels like it's on fire. So your hands reach blindly where you can and you're deliberately pulling the dark fabric out of the way and spreading your legs a little more.

Why? Why?

"Please, Levi!"

And like a trigger, he snaps. His ring and middle finger are pushed into your core and you bite down on your own fingers to mute your voice as much as possible. It feels so fucking different from when you've done it by yourself, so much better, and it pains your conscious mind that your body can and will accept pleasure even if it's from the man whose throat you want to slit the most with your blades.

Pushing his rough digits up to his knuckles, you yelp and he grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you up as your back is bent at a painful angle as your hands rest flat on the surface you're on. While he sets a pace for his fingers, making your eyes roll just slightly, he bites your shoulder.

"Be fucking quiet." He slowly pushes his fingers in and out of your wet pussy, curling them every now and again and it makes your legs shake. Scissoring them to spread you a little more, just a few more times, he starts picking up speed and pushing them as deep as he can. The lewd sounds from between your thighs as his hand comes in contact with your skin, they tint your face red in shame because now there's no more use in denying that you don't want him to fuck you senseless.

Just from the way Levi's fingering you, you feel like you're going crazy. You want more. When he releases your hair, you collapse again and the only thing that ricochets off of the stone-wooden walls are your quiet whimpers and mewls and heavy breaths mingled with his low grunts.

"Lev—ah!" You wince as his palm comes into harsh contact with the tender skin of your ass, once, twice. You take the hint and nod.

You feel your head swim in sybaritism, hips pushing backwards to meet him halfway. Pleasure multiplying infinitely as he starts toying with the swollen bundle of nerves, and you let out the most wanton sound without a tinge of shame anymore. Reaching behind you to grab onto his wrist you try to stop him, you gasp and moan words to will him to stop. You don't want to cum so quick, not yet. Not yet.

Please.

The muscles in your body tense to a maximum and as soon as he feels that, the raven pulls away from you entirely. Tears well up in your eyes from the titillating sensation that courses through your body from the denied orgasm and your breath hitches.

As you try to recollect your common sense, your left leg is pushed onto the desk with you, bent at the knee.

"You're being surprisingly good. I'll let you have what you've been wanting so badly," he murmurs against your ear, kissing the shell softly. And before you know, you're filled up to the hilt with his cock buried deep inside your tight pussy. The feeling is so fucking good, your chest tightening painfully and the saline tears drop down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure.

Regrettably, he's your first, and unbeknownst to you, you're his. But if a man this sadistic and despicable can make you feel good to the point where the ability to think straight has been rendered completely useless for you, then you don't want to know what else you can feel with someone that you would much prefer being in his place.

Instantaneously, he starts fucking into you. Hands moving over the curves of your body, wanting to memorise it like a map for him to get lost in, and the feeling that his ice-cold fingers bring to your hot skin is sending you straight into fucking paradise like you've never been before—and you're not sure you ever want to return.

Reaching with your hands, you contort your upper body so that you're on your side and you're resting your arm on his waist but as a reaction to your unexpected movements, the male is grabbing onto your throat and squeezing. "Quit it, princess," he calls, voice deep and laced with raw desire as he starts slamming into you as rough as he can manage. That in itself sends your mind into a frenzy, your jaw dropping as your eyes roll back into your skull. Fingers are pushed into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue.

"Fuck. I n-need—"

Your nails dig into the flesh of his ribs and you're sure that you let them scratch enough to break the skin and draw blood. Your own pretty mark, less obvious than the ones he's put on your neck but still.

"Suck. Keep yourself busy, you little whore," he demands, teeth gritting when you let your tongue roll around and between them. Lips stretching so perfectly around their base. Your eyes are cast down as you start to suck and savour, the will to please hardly having dissipated after all.

He's watching you intently, and you can tell he's trying his best not to lose absolute control. But that doesn't make a difference, not when he's just as sexually frustrated as any other man in the military or perhaps even more. "You filthy bitch, I'm going to make sure you leave this place damn near stupid," and with those words, he pulls his fingers from your mouth, hooking them around your hips as he pulls you backwards with him, making you bend over the chair as he holds your torso up simply by pulling your hair.

The sound of skin against skin, the wanton moans dripping from your lips like thick honey as you call his name like a mantra, and the feeling of him stretching and filling your core so deliciously pushing you all into a state of submission that you never thought you'd find yourself in. "Please, please. I want to cum, please— ah— ha.."

The palm of his hand fondles your ass before he reaches around you, hand vanishing between your legs as the tips of his digits start toying with your clit again. Your knees buckle and he catches you in time. "Beg for it."

You shake your head and much to your honest dismay, the second he pulls out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing has you whining and protesting. A cruel man by nature, even here. Turning around to face him, you shove him back with lust-driven anger but he takes this lighthearted.

It catches you off-guard, just as much as the way he lifts you and drops you onto the desk, holding your legs as far apart as he can, getting a good view. You flush red and by instinct try to pull your legs together to no avail.

"I'll say it again, brat. Beg for it."

You have no options. You don't want to be left hanging and making yourself cum at this point would be insanely dissatisfactory, you just know it. "I—" You start.

Sapphirine eyes pierce yours and you're searching for mercy but all you're finding is sadistic self-indulgence. He's pressing the head of his dick against your centre and you're trying to fucking hard to push because you need him. You need him, for fuck's sake. But he doesn't move, instead just whispers a tender "go on" against your skin when he leans down, tongue flicking against your nipple and your toes curl.

"Let me cum, please—!! I'll be s-... I'll be so fucking good. I promise to, I promise to! Let me cum...," your voice dies down into nothing but a pitiful whine but he seems more than delighted to see you being pushed into such an embarrassing position where you're just pleading him to make you feel good. Which, had you been in a better state of mind where even making coherent sentences doesn't require all your intelligence, you'd say you absolutely fucking deserve after how he's ruined your body in every sense of the word.

"See?" He mocks. "I knew you damn well had it in ya," he whispers and despite the fact that you're not sensitive in any way, the way he rolls his hips against you makes you nearly teeter over the edge as your toes curl. You clutch onto him, hands slipping under his shirt and resting on the expanse of his muscular back as he once more starts rutting into you but this time, it's erratic and raw and you're scratching and piercing his skin with your nails. This only drives him further into mind-numbing pleasure and the animalistic way in which he fucks you takes only a few more times for you to completely lose it.

As warmth coils in your stomach, the familiar feeling from earlier returning, and you know that your much-needed climax won't be denied this time.

"Levi, oh fuck, Levi... I'm so close, I'm s—ah, ah!" Your back arches and you painfully scratch and damage his skin when he sends you over the edge with his fingers on your clit and his mouth on your neck. Your eyes roll back and you press your entire body against him with urgency, but he doesn't stop even after he helps you ride out your climax.

Your fingers twitch in oversensitivity, but you know that he hasn't reached release yet so you lean back and spread your legs as far as they can for him. "Ruin me, Levi. Ruin my fucking body and make it yours like the selfish fucking piece of shit that you are," you purr and it only takes one, two, three thrusts before he's digging his fingers into the tender parts of your thighs, his cum shooting deep inside you as he fills you up unapologetically.

It feels odd, you're tired, and you know you need to be more careful than this but when the two of you collapse together on the solid surface, you can't bother to even care.

Letting out a chuckle in disbelief, you throw your arm over your eyes. He lifts himself to look at you, brow subtly arching.

You shake your head.

* * *

Your legs are weak as you walk to your room, exhausted, and frankly, a lot less angry than you've ever been before. You know you've made a mistake. You know you've given Levi complete reign over you with what happened, but instead of thinking too much about it, as soon as you enter the confines of your safe haven, you faceplant your bed after throwing the paper bags containing your torn clothes among other things and decide to think about it later.

**_Tomorrow._ **

Sanity? Common sense? None left, you think before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿...
> 
> EXCUSE MY TRASH FUCKING WRITING TODAY! I don't think I'll be able to push out one of these before Sunday again, and if I do, it'll be significantly shorter...
> 
> HOPE Y'ALL LIKED THAT. It's probably not entirely coherent but my mind hasn't been in the right place today, I wrote to escape reality, for once. With pressure weighing on my shoulders because of school and familial issues, I broke down in class today, two times consecutively. So, please forgive any mishaps in the chapter, THEY'LL BE FIXED, I PROMISE. I just wanted to put it out ASAP because this has been rewritten thrice. I don't want to doubt myself too much either, you know?
> 
> I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT, SORRY FOR THAT, LMAO...
> 
> I'll format the entire thing tomorrow. I'm way too tired, it's past midnight. I WANT TO SLEEP, or at least: rest.
> 
> Also, I finally caught up with the SNK manga, I'm crying tears of fucking joy. (*＾▽＾)
> 
> Zeke Jaeger can rot in a cave and Eren needs to gain his common sense back. He also needs to get rid of that long hair, BOY, YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS. I must say, though, the time skip really fucked with my mind at first. -284/10, hated it. ╭∩╮(︶︿︶)╭∩╮
> 
> * * *
> 
> me: ill edit this tomorrow format yadda yadda  
> also me: does it rn before posting anw  
> #ok. I'm a liar, we been knew.


	8. Eunoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and quick update, half the amount of words that the last chapter had! Simply to conclude this part of the story, as the next will be a time skip into the near future with the reader as a full-blown Scout!

"𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑎 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑘,  
𝐼'𝑚 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ, 𝑏𝑜𝑦, 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?  
𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛,  
𝑁𝑜 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦, 𝑛𝑜 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑎, 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑠ℎ."

* * *

* * *

You didn't leave your room the day before the meeting, you just _couldn't_. The bitter realisation of what you allowed to happen in a frenzied state, overcome by a temporary feeling of pleasure just doesn't sit well with you. Never mind the fact it's all happened with the corporal. You really would have some use for the guillotine right about now because the fact that it was right now about four in the morning on said Monday means that in just a few hours, you'll stand face-to-face not only with the judge of your actions but also his two most loyal soldiers. One of which is the very man you have no intentions of even naming in your head.

It's legitimately mind-boggling to you. All these years spent holed up below Mitras and not one man had been good enough to even so much as catch your attention for a fraction of a second. Sure, you've had crushes, that's not it, but you've never felt the need to act upon those feelings because you know they were as fleeting as the empty promises of conning merchants. You really thought you were better than the women who swoon day in, day out over the captain, but now you're wondering if you're really the same but simply in a different way.

You see, you've slowly but surely come to figure out something _crucial_ in the way that you see Levi. You don't hate him for the person he genuinely is, no. In fact, deep within you, you find it admirable. The sacrifices he makes, not for himself but for the well-being of his comrades and subordinates, and even new cadets. The determination to continue even if he makes choices that quite often never deliver the results he's aiming for and leaves him empty-handed and, more often than not, completely by himself. You know he's the one who's seen people die over and over and over. Not because you've witnessed it but because Hange's told you on occasions sat by candle-light with research books in her hands.

He has pride as high as the sky, he's brazen, corrosive even, and he wears a person down to their bones, but never will he allow himself to let people down even if the feeling isn't mutual. For him to resort to mockery and other cruel methods of discipline is only further indicative that he has his cadets' best interest in mind, even if it may not always seem that way. He always fights to give meaning to the deaths of the soldiers, whether they died recently or years ago, he wants to make sure everyone's death is full with purpose and fulfilment.

That's what Hange told you.

And from your own observations, he's a self-aware man who's levelheaded on a level that most senior sergeants and others in command aren't capable of being even at an age that surpasses Levi's by probably at least two decades. He doesn't let negative criticism get to him and he puts his entire trust in the people he's closest to because he believes that nothing makes a team more than loyalty, trust, and transparency. Levi's never vocalised this, but his actions tell more than his words ever could.

He's a soldier in a completely different _league_ , most likely joined by his peers that he's hand-plucked himself.

That said, it doesn't take away from the fact that he doesn't seem to understand basic human feelings and the lack of logic and common sense in how he acts outside of the work-scheme is what you do hate him for. He may know how to guide battalions and how to lead highly-skilled people without getting them too beat up along the way but his thirst for sin and punishment seem never-ending. You want to pin it on him having the same roots as yours but you've never been so disdainful towards a person of the same heritage yourself; even if he never verbally confirmed of being from the Underground, based on his reactions alone, you can be sure of it.

Moreover, people from the underground tend to be resentful towards those above ground. You understand why. Really, you do. But now that you've spent time here, you almost don't understand it anymore. It seems like their hate is nearly unjustified. You wonder if Levi feels the same way about you. After all, it's been only nearing half a year that you've been above ground and only one month out of five has actually been with them. That's four Sundays, nothing more. You can't blame him for distrusting you, you've only just recently started trusting the other members, but you find that there's no reason for him to be such an asshole.

And yet, that's what makes him so attractive to you.

You've always been a personality and good looks as a bonus type of person. You have always found it hard to see someone physically attractive if their personality was no better than the trash you can pick up around the streets of your home city. So it makes no sense that this fucker's rotten personality and attitude are the reasons that have driven you to the point of willingly let him have you however he wants. On his desk, nevertheless. You honestly don't know how to make sense of it, but what does feel good for an extended period of time is the fact that that particular... act seems to have somewhat dampened your feelings of rancour.

* * *

Opening the doors to the all-too-familiar office, you're surprised to see that the only one awaiting is Smith. You don't say anything. You let him speak of his jurisdiction, and it's quite the opposite of what the corporal said. While yes, it's an absolute breach and disrespect of the conduct that the Scouting Regiment follows, he fully reasons that there's no need to put you away locked up yet again simply because, this time, you technically don't belong to the Survey Corps just yet. Nor are you part of any other division. Which means that punishing you at that point would be nothing short of absolutely pointless.

Furthermore, he's made his decision based on who was present that day, and considering they were senior higher-ups, there's no need to enforce punishment so long you can promise and keep your word that no such thing will occur again. He's had Levi tell his squad not to mention it from now on and although he assures you that there hasn't been any form protest from his side, it's almost hard to believe with the way he's trying so hard to convince you... But knowing the relationship between Erwin and Levi, you have no doubt that the latter trusts anything the former does with his life if he has to, so the possibility is still there, you suppose.

You're really living at this man's mercy, huh? Then again, he _is_ the one that leads an average of two-hundred, maybe three-hundred, men to the outside of the Walls.

Despite those thoughts, you salute him nonetheless, as a sign of respect, and most importantly, gratitude. Gratitude... whereas your old self would've said _"not as if I deserve it anyway"_ , the person that you are as of now more or less understands that sometimes, perpetrating order is necessary and Erwin has done you grand favour of sparing you.

"There's something else I want to bring to your attention," he says, and you put your hands behind your back, clasped, and listen. His blue eyes—those gorgeous fucking eyes of his—study your visage for a moment and it shakes you to your core. You notice that they linger on your neck and you know _exactly_ what he's staring at. Your hands fly around your neck, covering them hastily as your eyes shamefully avert to the floor, suddenly finding that one light spot on the hardwood floor a billion times more interesting. It's so humiliating, to present in front of him like this. Not to mention, amidst your content, you've completely forgotten about, well, the marks along your body.

"Relationships between soldiers are highly discouraged," he vocalises and you flinch, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. Please, or a guillotine is still a viable option, really. "Even more if they're between underlings and their _superiors_. I assume that no issue would arise if it was kept... on the down-low, but I can't exactly agree with what I'm seeing. What will others think? You understand this, don't you?"

He knows.

He fucking knows what and with who, and he's making you pay by indirectly telling you that some people need to control their fucking _urges_. Because of course, they all make sure you do. He's a lot slyer than you initially ought him to be but good gracious fucking Walls, this is nearly a low blow. A hard pill to swallow, really, but you need to force yourself to answer him nonetheless.

"Yes, sir. We'll be more careful should it happen again, but rest assured, it most likely will **not**."

"Wonderful, now to the genuine issue I wanted to address. Everything has been finalised and your penalty has been cleared as a consequence of your, let's say, slightly above average behaviour within the military these months. From an enemy to an ally in no more than three weeks is an accomplishment in its own right, and it is yours to boast about. You will be an official member of the Scouting Regimen within a few days, so please look forward to that. Nothing grand will be held, but all of the current members will be called back to be present as well as the premièr of the three regiments, Dhalis Zachary. He's been of great help along the way."

"Of course, sir," you beam, feeling exhilaration take over and you've never been happier to hear that you're going to be admitted into anywhere. One step closer to finding out who the pigs that ratted you out were. Had it not been for them, you wouldn't have had to deal with these people in the first place.

"All right, that is all. It feels good to see you're looking healthier these days, cadet. You're dismissed."

"Thank you very much, sir."

Your heart leaps. You didn't expect that, but it does make you think about how the ones in command pay more attention to the ones that serve them than you initially thought. Or perhaps it's because Erwin hasn't seen you as much during these months that the change is more noticeable to him. Either way, it's mindful and it brings a smile to your lips.

Once you're out of there, you cannot wait to tell Kirschtein but you immediately stop merely centimetres from the door leading to the outside because you remember the bruises on your neck, and it makes you want to scream. On one hand, this shouldn't be troubling you. You have no feelings for him, so technically speaking there is no necessity for you to try and hide what others have laid upon your skin. On the other hand, however, knowing that it might possibly hurt him just tears you to pieces, and you never knew how complicated having a friendship was until today.

Notwithstanding, you inhale as deep as you can, allowing your lungs and ribcage to expand before exhaling completely. You can't let other people's feelings dictate how you live. You never have so what's the matter now? Only a matter of months and it seems like you've completely softened up, but find hardly an issue in it in the back of your mind. Sometimes people need to change, and that's exactly the situation you're in otherwise you would still have been in that mucky, yucky dungeon.

You wonder if Dana and his friend are doing well. And then you think that they're most likely doing just fine. The Military Police never has anything better to do anyway, so they're prone to living good, longlasting, stressless lives. They're no different.

Sauntering towards the spot where you definitely find the tall ash-blond, you sneak up behind him with your palms pushing ever so gently against the broad of his back. "Boo, beanstalk. Did'ya miss me?"

He jumps, genuinely frightened. "Holy shit, what's h- oh, it's you!" Turning in his heels, he goes in for a hug and you laugh as you return it delightfully. "Where did you disappear to? After Captain Levi showed up you vanished from the surface of the planet, and-" The fact that he quits speaking mid-sentence and he looks equal parts disturbed and amused assures you that he's only just now taken notice of the hickies and you want to die. For the third time today, ain't that something?

"Ohh," he coos. Really? That's all he has to say about it? Men are unpredictable no matter where you go, aren't they? Next thing you know, Jean's a spy from the enemy directed to infiltrate the corps and find vital information. But part of you is extremely relieved that there's no trace of hurt on his face, otherwise it would've been hard even for you. You roll your eyes at him; his arm slings around your shoulders comfortable, giving the farthest one a tender, affectionate squeeze. "You should've said so earlier instead of pretending you weren't into him, you know? I wouldn't have thought of messing with his girlfriend if I knew." And he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Hey! What!? No! Shut the fuck up, and **don't** call me his girlfriend. I can barely stand him, he-"

"But you can lay him?"

You can't help the cackle that escapes you, this guy is fucking ridiculous and you want to be mad but the fact that he had his chance and absolutely took it just makes you laugh. You push him playfully, what a smartass. "Oh, fuck off, Jean. I came here to tell you some good news and the only thing you do is slander me for making regretful choices. I have enough with **his** derision, don't join forces with him now, I thought you were on my side?"

"I can't even side with Jaeger, and you expect me to side with that small guy? I told you I don't like him! He's... the odd one out, to put it one way or another. I don't like how he carries and handles himself so brutely, not to mention how he just thinks he owns the place. His records might speak for him all they want but they kind of don't make up for him being a somewhat trashy person." His brow arches before he's pulling you in again and you fall into that comfortable, arms around each other position. You'll always appreciate the familiarity and warmth that Kirschtein provides you without hesitation, despite the fact that he knows the most about you and still isn't afraid. Or furthermore, disgusted. His eyes gleam as he looks at you, a grin splitting his face. "So, what's the good news? Don't keep me waiting for too long." Letting go of you again, he successfully goes back to his task of cleaning the stables. Harking up the hay into a corner before wriggling around in the tiny spaces with the large animals. It's almost comical to witness.

"I'll be official in a couple of days," you boast, almost too proudly, with your chest puffed out before coming close to him as you continue. "Then I won't have to take no shit from the others who look at me with so much disdain just from seeing me around, how's that? I'll be allowed to fly 'round like y'all and whatever," you say, leaning against the metal half-door as you watch him work. He only stops for a brief moment, surprise written all over his face.

"Good job. It was about time they admitted you. Honestly, congratulations, even if it hasn't happened yet! But that means that they're satisfied with you, right? I mean, you told me you were from the underground, and seeing how much they worked you to the bone..." He goes back to his duty and you hum in response. "I knew you were amazing but damn! Less than a month... you must be strong as Hell..." He trails off, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the upper part of his sleeve before he gets back to work.

"Well, I'll leave you to your job. I still have some things to settle," you say and without further ado, the two of you bid your goodbyes and you only mention how he shouldn't step in shit, to which he simply protests in joyous content.

Now for the real fucking problem.

* * *

"And what brings _you_ here? You should be behind bars."

That lingering scent of freshly-made tea is something permanent in this room, or so it appears to be; is tea his most favourite thing ever, or what? That aside, the way he's holding his cup is so impossibly beyond you that you don't know whether it's flat out stupid or just incredibly genius, but you don't comment on it, instead let him sip away at whatever beverage is in there. Most likely what you're smelling around you if you have to make a guess. With no time to lose, you don't beat around the bush, striding forward as you menacingly plant your hands onto his desk, sending some of the papers flying and he looks ready to kill you where you stand.

Joke's on him, you got accustomed to that murderous gaze already.

You point at your neck, angry bruises prominent and dark on your otherwise unmarred skin as you try not to lose your nerve right now because he did it on _purpose_. There are many things that have to be discussed and letting the most minimal get to you will not benefit you in any way, shape, or form. "Why? Ya knew Captain Erwin was going to say something about it, so why?" Hardly a question, more a demand. "Do you get off to the thought of putting your underlings in difficult situations?"

Eyes as cold as tundra ice hold your gaze for a brief instant before he lowers the cup, the glint giving nothing away; they glimmer in the candlelight. His lips are slightly reddish, most likely from the temperature of the tea inside the cup and you before you let your eyes linger too much, they fixate on his again instead. "Did you stop me?" He questions and you want to be a smart ass but then realise that no, you did not. Groaning in frustration, you try again. "But you knew you shouldn't have, and I knew I shouldn't have let you! It ain't just me here, this is a mutual thing."

"All right, sure, but if this shit is all you have to say then it could've waited or downright just not be mentioned at all, runt. I don't have tim-" He's ready to kick you out but you don't budge and instead lean forward a little more to intervene with your own words. Taking a deep breath as your head hangs, not daring to look him in the eye for now.

"No. No. There's something else I want to ask. Why did you- with me-? Because if it's to use it to humiliate me and berate me, then... Then I think I might actually fucking break," you laugh.

Porcelain knocking on wood, he sighs exasperatedly. "You're such a fucking handful," he says. You lift your head, retreating from your current position as you stand upright and face him. You can't exactly deny that you've crossed your superiors a couple of times now and went out of your way to be trouble but right now that's not what you're trying to do, truly. Although the implication of his words simply fly over your head. The thoughts of this morning arise back into your mind and it's now or never for you to decide whether he should know or not. It might lift a weight off of your shoulders or it might just make the burden heavier.

There is no right choice. You reap what you sow.

"Maybe it ain't confusing to **you** but it is to **me**. We've been at it like cat and dog from the first fucking day and I'm supposed to be hating you solely because of the fact that all you do when it comes to me is quite literally get in the god damn way. If I didn't know any fucking better, I thought you'd be trying to get me killed one way or another. But it ain't like that, I know it isn't because I've seen and heard different, I just hate the way you go on about things. Assuming that you've been above the surface for much longer than I, I expected a rational way of dealing with someone you don't like or something. But... but I don't fucking hate you for you 'cause there are qualities to ya that are really hard to fucking argue with," you breathe out.

Levi doesn't speak, instead resumes what he was previously doing before you entered the confines of his office, but he's not ignoring you. And that's just another thing about him that angers you: how he pretends not to care but is, in fact, attentive even for the smallest details.

"I hate you for how you seem to lack basic human understanding. Closed off, cold, violent, short-tempered. That's all that you come across as, so then what the fuck made you have sex with me!? And not just that, my entire body... my entire body has **your** imprints. Bruises from where your fingers grabbed, the marks on my neck, and the fact that you... I couldn't properly fucking sleep these past two nights because I could still feel you all over me, and I ain't like the sound of that in my mind, let alone now that I'm saying it out loud."

You collapse onto your knees, leaning against the front of the bureau as you run your digits through your loose hair, pushing it back and out of your face as your hues gaze into nothingness. "I'm trynna make sense of everything, I finally realise that I don't hate you for who you are but for who you present yourself to be and allow people to see ya as. Myself included! And then this shit fucking happens and now I just wanna know for what reason? 'Cause I'm everything ya hate and more, you proved that from day one," you say and the imminent headache from earlier hits you full force and you grunt, completely defeated and at a loss. Turning over, you allow your back to rest upon the wooden surface as your legs outstretched in front of you. You tug at the brown leather around your thighs, fiddle with it. "I suppose I kind of find solace in the fact that you come from the same place as I. I never wanted to be anything more than what I was but coming here and witnessing you showed me that I strive to be someone greater and someday be able to protect the children down below. It proves me that no matter where you're from if you try your damn fucking hardest no matter how you start, you'll get somewhere."

Running your hands down your face, your chest feels lighter but your mind does not. Hearing the corporal shift in his seat, you look up to see nothing but rims of paper over the edge.

"You're talkative," he notes. You want to punch him. "What's the reason that you did it?" He inquires, his voice low and calm. Not in a threatening manner, his demeanour is completely mellowed out and he's just... present. No attitude, no mockery, just sheer will to figure something out. In his own way, but still. Maybe you're a little bit appreciative.

"I wanted to... I guess? The first time you fucking decided to use that "habit" bullshit against me, I thought you were going to pull through with it and ever since then, I just. I knew I wouldn't say no if it happened again," you admit quietly, hugging your knees as you rest your head on them tiredly.

"There's your answer."

About to protest, it takes you a few seconds to realise precisely what he means and what he's, ultimately, just told. Because he wanted to? So not because he wanted to hold it over your head later? To use it against you? For his own benefit? He did it for pleasure and because _wanted_ to, with you!? You are fucking confused, now even more than before. Why did he want to? Does that mean he also wanted it before?

Existential crisis _ensues_.

This really doesn't help you come to a definite conclusion on Levi, does it? It only drives you further into the dark, leaving you in a grey area where there's asphyxiating fog going into your lungs and holding you there. Not enough to kill you, but not enough to let you live with peace of mind. With those thoughts and an inner turmoil and dilemma, you rise to your feet as you clear your throat, cracking your neck as you begin to speak once again. "Well...," you say, trying to keep your demeanour calm despite the never-ending spiral of thoughts in your head. Nonchalantly, you lean on the desk. It's a hard task to keep your voice steady.

"We agree on something pretty fucking significant, at least for me, so how 'bout, right here and now, we also agree to quit this childish game of cat and mouse? Y'see, I'm gonna be in the corps soon, and I think it might benefit us both," you propose, looking over your shoulder to watch him. He's tucking some papers away, not really interested in the talk you're having anymore. He's so subtly blunt with his intentions, it actually irritates you. Levi is all about body-language

"I'm not here to make _friends_ , runt," he says, tone as abrasive as before and you roll your eyes as he cannot see. Of course, he's not, his world starts and ends with himself. No element of surprise there. "But just to be even, we can settle down for now. The introduction is soon, it's best if we keep things minimally hindering considering the presence of Zachary. I wouldn't want you embarrassing me."

You hear him sipping his tea and you smile. "Oh? What is this, the Corporal being nice? I'm going to have to praise the Lord that bestowed us the Holy Walls!" The playfulness in your tone is obvious but the glare that you're shot indicates that he's quite had it for today, and the eye bags under his eyes tell you that he's not slept for probably over twenty-four hours. Deep inside, it pains you. He carries great duty on his shoulders and yet he's still trying to appease not only your sentiments, but he's being mindful of others... in a strange way. Giving your narrow shoulders a shrug, you begin retreating. "Thank you for the mercy, Captain Levi. I will see you tomorrow again, then."

"Yeah, don't make me regret my fucking decision. It takes **a lot** of will not to put you in your god damn place through a good beating," he growls. You simply wave your hand dismissively. Same story, different day, but at least right now you don't have to worry about his sadistic tendencies and him sneaking up like a shadow behind you and slapping the living fucking sunrays outta you.

"Oh, and runt?"

"Hm?" You respond, expecting to be reprimanded for breathing as per usual, so you're entirely ready to exit the room.

"Wear them with pride until they fade."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm-
> 
> Exhausted.
> 
> I most likely will not update again until next Sunday, but on the other hand, this is my last week before the Easter holiday which means I'll get to write more then. The aim is to update 3 times that week! But we'll see how that turns out.
> 
> THE LAST CHAPTER GOT SO MUCH POSITIVE FEEDBACK, I HOPE THIS ONE ISN'T A LETDOWN. I wanted a mellow conclusion to the... reader getting into the Survey Corps part of the story, so Levi and her have made _some_ sort of amends here. Naturally, the ride isn't fucking over but needless to say, everything has ups and downs. On an intense level, this is a 2. I'm quite satisfied with it.
> 
> Minus the part where she just can't wrap her mind around physically being into Levi, because clearly she's just *MR. KRABS PANIC MEME*.
> 
> Anyway. Goodnight. I'm tired. ALSO, I CHANGED MY TWITTER'S @! It's no longer denkicito, it is now **_rivaillism_**. YEAH, THAT'S ALL, SDJFF. I HOPE Y'ALL HAVE A GOOD WEEK!!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **08.04.19 [EDIT]**  
>  The chapter has now been formatted and has had a slight modification. I've completed paragraphs that I felt were lacking, and some stuff here and there. I'm in a much better state of mind, oof. I'm sorry this was so short but I promise we'll go back to your regularly scheduled 7~8K words chapters from Sunday on! o(≧∇≦o)
> 
> I also added the lil' thingamajig at the beginning, huhu. Now it's all in order.


	9. Vitriol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RAPE. TRIGGER. FUCKING. WARNING. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> ~5.6K! Slowly getting back to that 7-8K per chapter thing. I didn't go too much into detail with the aforementioned topic but still, _please_ proceed with caution.

It's been two years, give or take. Maybe more, maybe less. Two years since you've officially joined the Survey Corps and two years to rival even the most demanding training you've been put through. Between Titan shifters and traitors, breached walls without holes and the loss of many lives including the life of Erwin Smith during the recovery of the territory within Wall Maria, your mental and physical health have deteriorated greatly and other people have never looked this ready to commit to another suicide charge in the next expedition. You've survived two, and they say the more you survive, the easier it becomes but what's never easy is seeing newly-joined cadets lose their lives on their very first.

You haven't seen or heard much from Levi on a personal basis since being placed into the Corps ultimate means that you're up "for grabs", so you've been put in a division which he doesn't entirely meddle in. Seldom. During the first expedition you partook in, you were placed in the middle whereas he's always in the leading frontlines, and during the second one, you were placed completely behind while he's remained in the same spot.

After you got introduced to the Survey Corps, Hange's and Levi's permissions and duties as your supervisors completely dissipated and you were left under the command of a different leader. Yes, Squad Levi and Squad Hange might be the most known and most talked about squads, but they're not the only ones. And although you were initially disappointed to learn this, now you've actually come to appreciate the break that it gives your mind. To just be able to not think and fret.

Of course, whenever the two of you come close to each other, it's like two equal ends of magnets meeting: completely repelling no matter how hard you try. And this has been especially true during missions and expeditions. Well, the Recon Corps might change over and over, but it's good to know that some things never change. To be fair, you don't even think you want something like that to change. It's almost like a tradition, the bickering and constant—dare you even call it unintentional—rivalry between the two of you. Something like Eren and Jean.

But now with Shiganshina retrieved and the humanity not on the brink of death once again, things have calmed down significantly, aside from the occasional rumble. Everyone's growing up and youthful, round faces have turned slimmer and harsher. Especially the guys, who have growth spurts and have come to the decision that working their bodies out to broaden their physiques is just what they need.

You and Jean have still a strong friendship going on, joined by Connie and Sasha who serve as your emotional support, and in the last couple of years, you've learned how to rely on people and let them rely on you. How to be stronger together and work efficiently as a team while still retaining individuality and setting yourselves apart from others. Even if you've belonged to different squads, with them being picked by Levi after the wiping out of his comrades during the first attempt at capturing Annie Leonhart—the Female Titan.

Part of you is envious. Not because they're closer to Levi, let's not misunderstand things here, but because this means that they've excelled so much in their skills that he's deemed them good and trustworthy enough to fight by his side. You've learned and accepted to notoriety his name and records carry. Then again, your physical state and capabilities have diminished, as they were meant to be sooner or later, and you don't want to pose a threat and deadweight to the people who've dedicated their lives without second thoughts over and over.

Those are the thoughts that you have with your window open as you gaze out of the window and into the endless dark sky. Sleepless nights you spend like this, doing nothing, lost in your thoughts while the chilly air of the night cools down your mind. Funnily enough, you've never been relocated to the women's barracks for the underlings. You've gotten to keep your room because Erwin never called for different and Hange makes no changes to pre-determined decisions.

But it often gets lonely after curfew because you have nobody to talk to. Indeed, you've grown used to having people around you and the once meticulous, calculated, and introverted attitude that you had has now morphed into a slightly less meticulous but still as calculated and definitely, definitely more extroverted personality. Which means that you long for human interaction some times more than others.

Closing the windows with a sigh falling from your lips, you lounge about in your pyjamas as you ponder sneaking out. Because while, yes, you've definitely eased out and avoided punishment at all costs, you're genuinely quite lonesome as of right now and long for company more than ever. The risk of being caught might not be that high but in case that you are, you'll be probably be checking 3DMG for the next week. So you think it over. One time, and another... you've been so good for so long, surely you won't get a smack for breaking the rules after, uh, months?

You settle for bare feet and your plain gown as you make way around. Should you visit Hange? You should, it's been a while. So with your feet tapping against the wooden flooring, you go on a quest to find her office.

* * *

Turns out that she's already gone to sleep, as told by a senior that you don't exactly recognise. Then there's no point. You can't visit Sasha, the barracks are too much of a risk and being caught walking around outside is worse than being caught inside, which means that you're going to have to head back to the confines of your room much to your dismay. In all honesty, however, you understand that Hange sleeps on the occasion. Rarely so, so the fact that she's probably out like a light means that she's most likely worked herself to the bone once again.

Ever since she's been appointed to the next one in command of the Survey Corps, you're pretty sure she's even forgotten that she has to eat in order to stay alive. You want to know how she holds up, the poor woman. As driven as she is, it can't possibly be good for her—or anybody, really—to function on about four hours of sleep per two days. You wonder if there's anything you can do for her, lighten the burdens on her shoulders. After all, you're not one to return favours but Hange has had a significant play in your development not only as a person but also as a cadet.

When you told her about your bloodthirsty plans against the MPs, she was actually supportive.

Although not tired, you feel listless, so you stop in front of the window right opposite to what you recognise as the studio Levi has. Ever since the scouts lost approximately two-hundred men in the retrieval of Shiganshina, the trauma in his eyes seemed to flash like life on the brink of death. You haven't spoken for months, and on and off for the past couple of years. The infuriating corporal, you wonder, is he doing well?

You sigh. Even after all the bullshit he's put you through as soon as you joined, the devil inside him never quenching its thirst by continuously, subtly picking on you even after such a long time, not to mention the fact that he seemed fucking surprised at the fact that you were alive. Probably expecting you to have burned off and into non-existence after the Colossus Titan decided to try and incinerate everyone; the others had gotten an iron grip on each other, including you.

But even after all that, you've noticed that your heart has softened because you've witnessed him shutting himself off emotionally to the world when he loses comrades over and over like a curse that's attached itself to him. And you wonder, will you meet the same fate if you try to stand by his side? Will the others? One by one? All at once? You want to know, not only that but the emotions the seemingly cold-blooded corporal keeps to himself.

"Oi, the fuck are you standing over there looking so melancholic for? It's damn well past midnight, you should be in your **room** ," a voice urges.

Speak of the devil, and the devil shall come.

Without looking in his direction, you hum. "Old habits die hard, corporal. I couldn't sleep, it seems that insomnia has decided to settle inside my body over the course of last year, and the moon is particularly pretty tonight. I thought I'd visit commander Hange but her studio was locked and I couldn't see any light through the cracks," you inform him, now turning around on your heels and you see him sip his cup of tea. Ah yes, the infamous way he has of holding the fucking cup.

You've tried to mimic it, you really have in the confines of your own room, but it's just impossible and how he does it is still very much beyond you.

"Assuming you were heading back, why did you stop? The entrance to the wing where the superiors' dormitories are is right around the damn corner," he speaks and exasperation laces his voice. Sipping the hot beverage, you can only give your shoulders a shrug. Why did you, indeed. Mostly because you don't want to spend your awake hours holed up in there.

"Did you miss being punished for breaking the rules that much?" He further inquires and although he starts walking forward, you can tell he's headed for the door. Taking the handle, he turns his visage towards you, eyebrow cocking ever so subtly and the glint that suddenly sparks in his eyes makes you feel suddenly very aware that while you might've softened up, this man has absolutely not. So you're quick to respond, not missing a beat.

"No, **corporal**. I haven't. In fact, my damn plan was to just get away with it but, like a demon, you're always fuckin' everywhere." You force a smile onto your lips. He ignores your snide addition to the sentence you just uttered and he simply continues to concern himself on whether or not you're going to go away because he has "business to get to and he doesn't want to babysit you during his free time".

And frankly? You're not. Just to piss him off a little more; it's not babysitting when he doesn't even have reign over you anymore.

* * *

That plan was bound to backfire and you feel the repercussions of it as you're sat opposite to him by his desk. He's making you work, at this hour nonetheless! Levi's sadistic nature rearing its ugly head right after you refused earlier, telling you that if you're going to be a nuisance, then at least you should be helpful in some way. So, your task? Reading over the reports on the soldiers reported as missing that died during expeditions prior to the last one, some years old by now, and control that everything is in fair order.

Corpses that the remaining people left alive couldn't collect during their return or that the military forces couldn't identify otherwise are basically just ticked off as missing when they start looking into it, but after a certain time mark passes, if the body isn't found or identified by then, they have to get rid of the records to avoid them from piling up, considering the death rate of the Survey Corps. It may seem unethical, to just remove someone's existence from papers just like that, but you can't lose what was never there in the first place, right?

It's the simple organising of the records, making space for new names later.

Your eyes drift along the lists.

**...**

**Unidentified Male #36**

_\- blond, short hair, green eyes, estimated 17-22, estimated 185cm, Stohess district, Military Police_

**Unidentified Male #37**

_\- ginger, short hair, blue eyes, estimated 17-22, estimated 180cm, Stohess district, Military Police_

**...**

Oh. You feel your heart drop as your eyes read the words over and over. Your grip clenches. Sure, they might have been the ones that kept watch over you back then but they didn't deserve to fucking die, and judging by where they died, this relates to the fight that broke out between Annie Leonhart and Eren Jaeger when they turned into Titans. Nobody ever agrees with you when you say that what happened back there was a tragedy easy to prevent but due to the lack of proper planning on the last commander's behalf, the Survey Corps wiped out innocent lives.

You can feel your blood boil. Erwin was a respectable man, yes, but sometimes it seemed like he was in need of having some sense knocked into him.

You see, it's true that underneath that district there are underground, unused tunnels and they would greatly serve in capturing Annie since, as predicted, she wouldn't have been able to transform into a Titan then. But they never considered the option of Annie getting suspicious and retaliating or refusing, no. The plan had been thought out already considering it a success. A fault on the Survey Corps' behalf and the consequences were paid by none other than the civilians.

You t'ch, earning a look from Levi, who's been just as immersed in his work (if not more) as you. Feeling the piercing gaze on your skin, you abruptly lift your head to look at him.

" **What**?" You bark, although it doesn't really do much. Putting his teacup down, the man rises from his seat and he walks over to yours. Yanking the paper out of your hand, he gives it a once over. "Is your boyfriend on this or what?" He murmurs; you snatch the paper right back out of his hands. "No, captain. My boyfriend is not on there. I would consider it difficult to list a person who doesn't even exist, thank you very fucking much," you snarl.

"I was simply thinking about how pretentious and tasteless this division sometimes operates, under the ridiculous belief that everything that's done is for a reason and that it doesn't matter if countless people who shouldn't have been involved with this business die so long it "furthers" the process of saving humanity from the Titans! But at this rate, we're all going to fucking die before we even make it anywhere," you say, the tone in your voice bitter and laced with regret, anger, and maybe even spite.

Levi's never been responsive to your outbursts and this time isn't any different. All he does is stand there, watching you as your own hues look over the names and the numbers on the lists. You decide you're done for tonight, you stack the paper sheet back with the ones that you've yet to go through—or well, he will have to. Your jaw clenches.

And then you realise the reason why Levi is so fit to do this job, to be the one who leads and to be the one who watches his soldiers fall one by one, like a house of cards. He shuts off his emotions, he has to, when he's confronted with it over and over. It's not just seeing them fall to their deaths at the hands of the enemy but getting the bitter reminder every year that his friends, his comrades, the people who mean the most to him, are gone along with countless lives.

"I... I'll be heading to bed." Getting to your feet, you have no time to move as he halts you in your place. Looking at the raven, a man who looks too young for his age, you wonder what now. Is he going to give you a lecture? At this hour? But you notice that unlike the few times before where he's gotten a hold of you, the grip is gentle. It's not painful, it's not tight. And then he speaks.

"People join the Scouting Regimen aware of what it means to be here. They are people willing to give their lives in the stead of those who would rather live safely. Yes, we captured Annie—the Female Titan—and along the way people got caught up. What about it?" Even though it's a question, it's rhetorical, so you don't answer. "Everything comes at a cost, no matter how great. And if you can't accept that, then you should've died as cannon fodder. You, better than anybody else, should know that sacrifices are necessary for survival. We chose to sacrifice humanity, and sacrifice our humanity if it comes down to it."

"You are **_insane_**."

"Maybe so," he replies coldly. "But had it not been for Erwin sacrificing what was left of the Survey Corps that day, you wouldn't have been here. Are you going to defile their deaths for your own views of righteousness and justification? To cast judgement upon those who were ready to die even if it meant saving one single life?"

Although the look on his face is nearly menacing, Levi doesn't move from his spot.

"Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot save or protect others. By taking the moral high ground, you will harm your colleagues. Cadets who join this military division understand that in order to win, big risks must be taken. They are prepared to lose everything, even their lives. And you should do no less, especially after two years."

Slender fingers wrap around the rim of the fine china, footsteps resonating within the room as he strides over to the door. "Has Hange not taught you? **Everybody** we care about eventually dies."

* * *

The words that he told you last night, they weigh heavy on your mind. It's not that you _didn't_ know, it's just that you chose to ignore it, right? It's not winter, it's still autumn, and even though the air is warm, you still shiver. Everybody we care about eventually dies. For how many people is that true? The people walking around you, so carefree along the streets of the most central part of Trost.

You're out shopping for groceries, having decided last year that since you have nothing better to do in your free time, you'll improve your cooking skills. You started out as a complete disaster and failure but perseverance and determination turned you into a decent cook as of present date. You're looking for ingredients to prepare a healthy meal for Hange and not just one course. Oh, no! Three! With dessert and all.

So you have gotten most of the ingredients. Carrots, cucumbers, onions, celery, peppers and some good lettuce, all to make a salad for her first. You'll top it with some mango if you find good ones. For the second dish, you've decided on meat with garlic and thyme, and some rice to accompany it. As for dessert...

Strawberry milk? But you're worried that it's too poor of a sweet.

With limited supplies in the underground, the parents of children who cared enough would create their own sweets for them to enjoy. Fairy bread, or really just smearing butter and sprinkling sugar over a loaf of bread and then heating it up until the sugar caramelised. Strawberry milk, or really simply heating up diced strawberries with sugar until it creates a sickly sweet syrup and then pouring it into regular milk. The more fancy type included diced strawberries in it, too, not just the syrup. Something even more simple is creating caramel out of sugar, though, which is a general first choice.

You sigh softly. But wouldn't that make it better? Perhaps they aren't familiar with that type of thing. As far as you've seen, they hardly enjoy dessert as it is. And it's not like you can master chef your way into making something that's upper class. You don't know anything else aside from your trials and errors, which aren't on a god-tier level of cooking and preparations... yet.

Well, _you'll see_.

You're picking out the strawberries from the fruit stand, making sure they're big and red in colour. Impressive, like the woman you're going to serve them to. Mangoes, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and persimmons as well. Subacid fruits, mostly, but with the strawberries being the most acidic and the persimmons the sweetest, you'll find a balance somehow. Taking the bag after paying the man, you give him a smile and retreat as you go on your way.

Going over the mental list you've made for yourself as you carry two bags in one arm and a third one in the other, you make sure that you've forgotten nothing. Well, perhaps you have, but if you want to start and finish on time, you're going to have to start heading back now so that you have enough time to borrow the kitchen, too. Shame, you wanted to wander around a little more.

Trudging over the stones that serve as pavement, you walk your merry way, going over the two main recipes a couple of times over in your head. For the meat to taste good, you have to cook it properly, not let it sit for too long or too short on the heat, otherwise, it might just ruin everything. Also, the garlic and thyme must be added when the butter is warm but not hot so that it can take out all the flavour and this is before adding the meat...

Distracted, you don't hear the footsteps behind you. The familiarity of Trost and its surroundings have allowed you to put down your guard as you go. Which, in hindsight, might not be a good thing.

As you turn into a narrower road, they follow behind you. An arm with a grip as strong as steel wraps around your middle, forcefully locking you in place as the other's hand flies around your mouth to prevent you from screaming or shouting. Dropping everything, you start to struggle but quickly realise that whoever is attempting to perhaps kidnap you isn't alone. Your arms are held and only when you direct your gaze properly do you notice that these are two men you don't recognise. But what you do recognise is their badge, the insignia on their jackets.

The Military Police.

Which only means one thing.

As the truth of the situation sinks in, you start thrashing with all your might but to no avail. Between the demanding exertion of your favourite paraphernalia during missions and expeditions, and the rigorous training that you're put through once every three months to keep in shape, topped off with the less than great plates of food they serve you, your fragile body has taken a beating like no other. You've never been in top fucking shape, let alone right now. You try your luck by kneeing the man in front of you right where it hurts and indeed, he falters.

You try to rip yourself out of their grip but it seems that your retaliation has made them angrier and suddenly you're being hit in the stomach. You would double over if you could, but you can't so you wheeze against the palm that's keeping you from calling for help. You want to subdue them, but you can't. You want to continue struggling.

But you can't.

Because the men from the military leave those in the underground paling. They have much sturdier, stronger physiques whereas the others aren't so in shape. So when you run out of energy, they take the chance to put their slimy hands up your skirt, up your shirt and reaching for places that you didn't want any other man to lay their hands on.

"Serves you right, bitch," you hear from behind. And the voice is familiar, making your eyes widen in both panic and surprise, makes your blood boil and rage travel through your veins. These are the pigs. The pigs that ratted you out and then it backfired when they got caught. One last time, you twist your body abruptly and on the spot where the tallest of the two was gripping your shirt, it tears, exposing most of your torso and you feel absolutely disgusting.

Tears are starting to well up in your eyes as you feel them grope and touch your breasts, caressing along your thighs up between your legs and you genuinely want to die like you've never wanted to before. You've never felt so filthy before, and the fact that they say that you deserve this? For what? For their own idiocy believing that a simple position in a military division would grant them immunity and protection from the very law they break and simultaneously work under?

As your arms are hooked and locked behind your back, the other one begins to tear your clothes at convenience, exposing your body. Or rather just the parts they want. You're sobbing, trying to at least free your mouth from the vicious palm that covers it and even when you bite and try to get him away, he resists. Why? Why? Why is this happening to you? You've managed to avoid it so many times in the underground, fighting off men who didn't know their place, who think it's in their right to take and abuse women as they so damn well please.

Your legs are forcefully spread and your panties are removed, but it doesn't end there. Using a knife to threaten you, the brunette holds it against your throat and then proceeds to speak, "try anything funny and we'll make it look like an accident". Your silent sobbing turns into frightened panic and you don't know what to do, you just know that you want to get away. Someone, anyone.

Please.

"Always around those fucking brats from the Survey Corps, we couldn't get shit done," the man grunts and he's unzipping his pants, and you can't help but "This is for costing us our damn fucking ranks, you dirty harlot. It's all your fault that we're doing this, we're teaching you a lesson!" He half-whispers, still aware of the people that might be wandering nearby, but it seems that cast off, small streets behind houses, nobody really comes to unless they need to be, most likely, in the houses.

You can't breathe, you're suffocating. You feel fingers pry between your legs and it makes you instinctively flinch, trying to push your legs together. Whimpering, you try to kick but the retaliation only seems to drive them further and further. What are they making? A point? You don't know, you don't know what to think anymore, or if you can think at all. All you want is...

"She probably even likes it, she's just pretending. Aren't all the women down there whores anyway!?" One laughs and you feel like throwing up, it's nauseating how entitled they are.

Pushing his penis into you, you feel a burning, tearing pain shoots up your spine, the lack of arousal making everything so, so fucking painful to the point where your body enters a mild state of shock. You arch and pull away as a natural reaction, you try to get away for the nth time. Disgusting, filthy, unclean. That's how you feel, and you wish nothing more but to disappear as you struggle even with the pain as the man uses your body against your will to pleasure himself, the encouragement of the other becoming blurry as you slowly but surely feel your conscious slip from your mind.

You don't have to feel, you don't have to think, you don't have to know. You're locked inside the deepest parts of your mind, safe and sound from the terror that is the reality. Your reality. You don't have to worry about pain or harm in the confines of your subconscious, you don't have to think about what happens next or how much you're going to hate yourself after it's all over. Because they say it's your fault. It's your fault for undergoing worse consequences than them. You, who has been locked up and chained in the dungeons like a dog, who's been mistreated and distrusted by those who were supposed allies, are at fault.

That's how it works, right?

You don't know how long you're out, but when you wake up, you wake up with a frightened scream and a jolt. Chest heaving up and down as your breath instantly turns erratic and you're entirely disoriented. The hand that comes on your shoulder makes you flinch and huddle up, and it retreats as fast as it comes. You can't see anything, your mind isn't letting you.

You hear voices but you can't make out the words. You see silhouettes but you can't make out the details. Where are you? Who are these people? But why are they leaving? Why is your vision so unclear, so blurry? What's happening? You need to leave, you need to leave. You have to get out or they'll continue.

You hear distant calls of your name. The voice is deep, a little raspy, but calm and... familiar? Who is it? You hug your knees. Are you safe now? You hear it one more time, and yet another. It's not hasted, the tone is patient. Blinking your eyes, trying to focus, and once you recognise who it is, you feel your vision slowly clear as your mind comes out of that locked out state; you're in a room, and Levi is right there by your bedside.

He's not doing anything, he's just looking at you. "Le..vi?" You croak out, voice worn, and you don't want to start guessing why. "I'm here," he responds, and your posture starts relaxing now that you're aware you're in his presence alone, just a little, but still on edge, you try to move and suddenly realise how painful it is to. Immediately rising from his chair to help you, he hesitates when his hands come near you.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" He asks. You trust him. If not Levi and Hange and Jean, you don't trust anybody. Nodding your head, you vaguely recall someone laying a hand on your narrow shoulder. Was that him? Maybe not, there were more people in the room. When his own hands land upon the upper part of your arms, you notice they're warm. For the first time since you last saw him, you're looking in his eyes and there's something distinct about them.

Stress and shock and an immense amount of guilty and ugly, despicable emotions come washing over you and you break down where you're sitting. This takes Levi by surprise and his hands retreat for a single moment before he puts them back, seating himself on the bed right next to you and he, with an unknown gentility, pulls you tenderly against his chest.

He doesn't speak and he doesn't move, instead, allowing himself to embrace you warmly as one of his palms pressed against the back of your head and you tuck your face away somewhere near his clavicle. "I'm sorry," you choke out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let it happen. I'm sorry!" You cry, harder and harder as you cling onto him. Unbeknownst to you, Levi's jaw clenches tightly. His comrades being killed is one thing, the relief of it is instant, but the fact that somebody dares to violate and abuse a person only to leave them practically rotting is something that hits a nerve that only causes rancour and cold-blooded despise to bloom.

He's not good with people, even worse with emotions. And right now he's feeling a multitude of them.

"You did nothing wrong. You need to calm down and **rest**. Hange has put you on indefinite hiatus from activities for a full recovery, my squad is in charge of your safety and protection but if she must, Hange can replace them with Jean and those you personally trust; I personally offered to take care of you until you are prepared to speak what happened. I need to pass your recovery progress and the other information down to Hange, who will talk with the superiors about it and action will be taken immediately," he says but you can't make sense of it. You simply nod.

Rough hands let go of you but you don't budge.

Don't let go, _don't let go_ , _**don't let go**_.

You cannot bear the anguish right now, not again. Just for a few more minutes allow yourself to not think.

"Stay. Stay, please. I don't want them to come back! I don't- it hurts, it hurts," you gasp, your hands desperately clenching onto his shirt, and you pull him towards yourself. He's unsure quite to react, and would you not be in such a confused state of mine, you would've noticed the panic, confusion, and surprise that linger in his eyes.

But you don't care. "If not you, Hange! Or Jean! **Anybody**!" You cry. "Not alone... they'll find me. Please."

His chest heaves up and down, just once. Awkward hands fumble to get you to lay down, and although he's otherwise unresponsive, you can read Levi just enough to know that he's trying. He always does, subtly, for the cadets. "They won't find you, runt. You're safe," he reassures, tone slightly dry as he remains seated right beside you; he doesn't know what to do with himself. This is more than he can emotionally handle, but right now? You need _some_ form of support, or you'll go insane from the countless of intrusive thoughts going wild around in your mind. Your hand is on his, you refuse to allow him to leave.

You won't let him.

Not now.

Not later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IT'S NOT SUNDAY.
> 
> To be fair, I had difficulties writing the scene. It made _me_ uncomfortable, for several reasons.
> 
> Levi might start feeling a bit awkward from now on, as a character towards you guys, because this is where things slowly unfold. Hate has gone up, up, up until now but everything that goes upwards has to come downwards eventually.
> 
> ANYWAY. I AM VERY TIRED! IT'S 2 IN THE MORNING, AHAHAHA. I'm delirious. No kaomojis because oof... Goodnight, babies. I hope your weekend was great, Happy Easter!


	10. Convalescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floof. (︶ω︶)
> 
> Chapter's not heavily edited for that reason.

_"𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑛, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑛;_  
_𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟._  
_𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑗𝑜𝑟 𝑇𝑜𝑚, 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔;_  
_𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟."_

* * *

* * *

Night falls and as much as you want to sleep, you can't. Whenever you close your eyes, brief images of the recollection of that afternoon's events drift into your mind and it sends you into panic attacks and near-hyperventilation. And each time again, Levi's right there to try and bring you to a calm, with relaxed words and a glass of water. Either way, you can't really bring yourself to close your eyes but you don't want to be alone either; it takes some convincing for Levi to agree to stay, at least until you've calmed down to an extent. He recognises that if you do end up hyperventilating by yourself, then that might just be that.

At first, you feel apologetic to keep him around when you know that he needs to sleep. His work is back-breaking and unforgiving in terms of how demanding it is, so to take whatever little free time he has isn't helping the case, but with a heaved sigh and a nonchalant shrug to undo his jacket, he tells you that he's more of an insomniac than you are. That he often doesn't sleep, if he does then it's three hours at most sat by his desk. Is it a rule that all higher-ups forget how to take care of themselves once they reach a formidable rank?

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable," he says and as if he can hear it coming, he points at his military jacket. "The uniform isn't exactly the nicest fucking thing, so at least to get the harness off. I'm leaving that here so you know that I'm coming back. Either way, I'm a man of my word." Your eyes drift to the item of clothing before your hues trace back to him. You nod, understanding, and only then does he disappear through the wooden door as he lets the door fall shut.

It's almost as if you lost the capability to know what to do with yourself in these instances when you're alone. You can't sleep, so everything feels oddly out of place like it doesn't belong. You've been awake at times of the night where everything just feels surreal and yet homely all at once. Being awake at three or four in the morning on a cold winter night where the sun still has hours until it rises is one of the most unsettling and simultaneously comfortable feelings ever. You wonder why that is, you're plenty sure there's a reason for it but human psychology isn't your forte. Minutes tick by slowly but surely and you are at a loss as to what to do. Being alone isn't good for your mind right now.

Drumming your digits against your legs, you wonder if you should get up and open the window to let in some fresh air. You've been in this room the entire time and for all you know, it's been days. It feels stuffy, alarmingly so, you duly note. You move slowly, your body completely sore and when you remove the blanket, you're met with the horrid sight of black and blue, and angry red, and sickening yellow bruises on your skin. Some from having being grabbed too hard, and others from hits that you've apparently taken; you've never actually felt them and maybe that's a really good thing considering the circumstances. It frightens you to think about lifting your sleeves, then. Allowing your legs to dangle over the edge of the bed, you hiss and whimper in pain. You don't want to know, you don't want to think about it, so you bite through it with tears prickling at your eyes and you use the stairs of the bunk bed as leverage.

Hues land on the captain's jacket thrown over the top bed's railing. A billion thoughts cross your mind about him but you shake your head, and as you're about to take the first step towards the window you intend to open, the door flies open and there he is, in all his glory, holding two cups of what you can only presume to be tea. To anybody who doesn't know him better, his expression is unchanging, but after some time you've learned to read his subtle body language down to a T. He's unabashedly looking at you in disbelief.

"Can't leave you for **two** fucking seconds, can I? Get back in bed, you're not even supposed to be standing up yet, what do you want?"

"I wanted to open the window, I- I need some fresh air...," you mutter and lower yourself back onto the mattress in a comfortable position. Exhaling through his nose, he puts the cups down before striding to the window, long fingers pushing the lock undone before he pushes the framed glass outwards. It takes a few moments until the cool air reaches where you're seated yet the second it does, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, filling your lungs. As if your senses have dulled, you shriek softly when the man is standing next to you all of a sudden, pushing the warm porcelain into your hands.

"Darjeeling First Flush," he informs but he might as well have been speaking a different language. You look at the beverage, coddling the cup in both your hands before your finger slips into the frail handle, supporting the porcelain on your middle finger. The fragrance is light and once you taste it, it's surprisingly fresh. You've never been a fan of tea, particularly, but this is quite good. Lifting your head, he's sitting on the floor, much to your surprise. You're feeling a little better now, so you're more responsive, which is why the clean-freak sitting on the dirty floor in front of you is just... amusing, maybe?

"I'm not well-versed in teas, but thank you for bringing it for me," you say. Not responding, you look at the way he drinks, ever so fascinated, then at your own. And for the sake of your own amusement, you imitate the way he holds his drinks. Taking notice of it, he lowers his arm, holding his tea as his gaze lingers on your hand. You try to shake off the sudden nervous feeling and bring the fine china up, but your nose bumps against the side of your knuckle, making it hard for you to as much as try and catch a sip.

You hear a chuckle from where he is and your heart skips a beat. Surely not? He's not one to...

Lowering the beverage, you look at him, and indeed, he's trying his best not to laugh. It's probably the first time you've seen him laugh and heard him make any noise of genuine joy. It almost leaves you confused. "Haven't I told you before? You're ten years too soon, little runt," and so he takes a sip. You smile to yourself for no reason in particular, or so you believe.

Having company allows your nerves to calm and for your mind to slow down. Looking at your legs as they dangle off the edge of the bed, you drink the warm tea your captain's brought for you and you hum ever-so-softly. The bruises look so ugly. You've never minded battle scars and the like. They tell stories of bravery and sacrifice, determination and strength, but these...? You hardly desire to think about it; your hands tremble and it's noticeable because of the porcelain. Based on the fact that even the slightest thought about it shakes you means that if you pay it more mind you'll go into full panic again, and you're not trying to be more of a hassle to your superior than you already are. He's already given his word that he'll take care of you, he's done plenty just with that.

He genuinely has _no_ obligation to be here. There are nurses and not to mention doctors on-call if need be. Although, by the looks of some of the bandages that rest upon your clavicle, that has been taken care of. Still. By putting a nurse in place, he could always simply lift the burden of taking care of y—

"What are you thinking about?" He questions, voice pulling you right out of your thoughts. Eyes widening, you realise you couldn't really see what you've been looking at. Your subconscious is thankful that he's so sharp, and knows when to act. Stammering slightly, you don't want to speak of it, so you try to come up with something else.

Ah—!

"No... it's... you know. The bruises... they look like the ones I got when I was younger, back in the Underground." No, they don't, but that will suffice to convince him for now. Even if you know that he knows that you're full of shit. "I used to be clumsy and whatever. Looked like I had gotten beat up but it was all me falling left and right, hitting myself on places," you say recalling the memories with a serene smile gracing your lips for a moment. "Although sometimes I would get in trouble with the older kids and they'd land a punch on me for backtalking."

"...haven't I been saying that old habits die hard, runt? And you even had the nerve to act like a damn brat ever since we met, **always** backtalking..." Levi points out, eyes closed as he enjoys the remnants of his infusion. You're about to protest childishly. "Where in the city did you grow up?" The raven ever so curiously inquires, although the only hint of such is when his ever-so-gorgeous slate blue eyes meet yours.

"I dunno **where** I was born but I been south as far as I remember," you answer, hues drifting as you try to recall. "But I've always lingered between south-east, south, and south-west. That was my territory in the city, you could say." Your response comes quickly. "Why?"

"Huh? Do all the brats come from there? I lived in the very east but took reigns all the way up to the east-north and south-west," Levi speaks in his usual indifferent tone, and the only thing you can note is that, although it's no direct confirmation, this is the first time that he's pretty much solidified that he's from there. You blink away your surprise.

"Two of my friends and I, before we joined this hell on earth," he comments and you know he's talking about the Scouting Regiment. Getting up to his feet, he sets the cup down on the forgotten desk before finding a more comfortable seat at the foot end of your bed. You look at him, mouth forming a tiny o-like shape as you start thinking again.

Had you both been around the same age then there would've been no doubt that you would've crossed paths at some point, then.

Which reminds you... "I used to have a friend, something like an older sister... she was kind at heart but a lil' bit of a goof. Always full of damn energy. Much like the other kids and I, she kinda lingered but one day she started coming less and then told us she met a pair of kids around her age and that she started living with 'em. Then one day she stopped coming altogether, haven't seen 'er since."

Levi shifts and somewhat stiffens beside you. "Her name?"

"Isabel—"

* * *

Turns out, you two have closer connections to each other than you ever dreamt of having and you're not quite sure how you feel about that. Through the course of your conversation, he's started to slouch more and more to the point where he's now sprawled sideways on your bed with his feet planted on the floor for support on his lower body. His arm is resting on his forehead. Like this, Levi looks dangerously unguarded. Vulnerable, casual, declawed. Nothing like the animal you've seen on enemy battlegrounds. A foreign feeling of content lingers in your veins to be able to withhold a sight so rare, so unique, so... tender.

"My mother, Kuchel, was a prostitute. She died of illness and then what turned out to be a relative—my uncle—took me in after finding me on the brink of death, and raised me, but when he saw I was good enough to take care of myself, he just left." Propping your sore legs up a little bit, you daintily wrap your limbs around them as to not hurt yourself but still be comfortable. "That man was Kenny."

Your face is painted with horror because everyone knows who that is; that name carries infamous notoriety, but in the back of your mind, you can definitely see now where he's gotten his ridiculous fighting sk—

"Kenny Ackermann," he mutters. The once Delphic man now lays before you, telling you his life story as you tell yours. And then it sinks in. If Kenny is his uncle, then that means that Kuchel was Kenny's sister, and if that's his mother, then... Through sore throat, pain and all, you jump slightly, even if figuratively. "Levi _**Ackermann**_!?" Your little burst of energy instantly backfires as you start coughing. Dipping your face into your elbow as you do, willing it to settle down.

"Calm down, you sound like you just found diamonds in a pile of shit."

You don't know how to feel about any of this anymore.

"Do you think you can sleep now, brat?" The raven asks and although panic shoots through you, it dies out as fast as it comes. You notice that negative, intrusive thoughts haven't been on your mind for the past hours talking to him. Your body is more relaxed and you're a lot less on edge than when you woke up. Even so, you shake your head and lower it apologetically.

"Thank you, captain," you mumble. Strong extremities lift the man off of your bed. He fetches you a glass of water which you gratefully accept and drink before he puts it away, and this time sits closer to you. Your hand instinctively flies to grab his wrist, triggering him to look down and then back at you. "I told you I ain't going anywhere, runt. What's next? Handcuffing me to you just in case?"

"I just want to be sure... I know they-... I know they found Pastor Nick in his room. He was by himself. They t-tortured him and then took his life." Your voice is shaking and your fingers curl tighter around his arm, your face paling. Thoughts of possible scenarios fill your head and your breathing slowly but surely becomes erratic. Your hand clenches the bedsheet and you're suddenly pulled upwards into a sitting position, a large hand resting on your nape, massaging it gently. "If they find me, they won't- they won't hesitate again and I don't- I don't want that- not again-!"

Their grimy hands, the sensation of it, it overcomes you like bugs crawling underneath your skin and you curl into yourself. "Stop... make them stop," you whimper as tears glisten on your cheeks and you scratch your arms, your neck, all to will the feeling away. A pair of strong hands pry them away and the force makes your scream, your primal instincts registering it as danger. The feeling of being restricted against your will and only misery can follow after.

Right?

"Oi...," you hear. You're still being held but you try to pull your hands away and surprisingly, you succeed. Your mind's a mess, reality fading in and out and you can't tell what's going on anymore. Making yourself as small as possible, you're being let go of and for a minute, your shaken heart calms down. Your vision is blurry for the tears rimming your eyes, and you wonder what you've done to deserve being broken so radically.

You've always understood that the world is unfair but you wouldn't have wished this even on your worst enemies. And yet here you are, all because some men have pride the same size as the Colossus Titan and they made the decision, not just for you, that rape and abuse is the best way of punishing someone for their deeds. All because they've been demoted to something else. What little sense of self-worth you've had, they've completely stripped away and it's slipped from between your fingers like sand.

Your body had been the only sliver of dignity you've had left for yourself, and you could forgive yourself for impulsively sleeping with a man that you hadn't even considered a potential partner. That also took you about a year to come to terms with. But now? Expectedly, that's gone also. Your bad attitude, your big mouth, your body, everything's gone to shit and there's nothing left for you. The pain that you're suffering, the mental torment that you find yourself in... you'd rather drop dead this instant and never wake up again.

You have nothing to lose.

And those... those over at the Military Police would be able to rest assured.

Whether you live or die, it doesn't matter anymore. You don't have much to lose if anything at all.

That thought is almost frightening. The fact that something _so_ valuable to someone can be stripped away so fast by people who don't even have the right to. All simply done in a matter of moments.

You regain focus of your vision, slumped against the concrete white of the wall and you can't help but stare right into nothingness. Your body feels heavy and breathing is a hard task hard to manage when it's quite literally the only thing you have to do. Maybe if you stay like this, you'll perish eventually when you decide that even breathing is too much of a task.

A cold, wet towel dabs against your cheek and rubs the sticky feeling of dried tears away. The coolness of it wakes you a little, makes you focus a little more and you recall that Levi's with you. Your head's tilted and you're staring right at your corporal, your heart weighing heavy. The proximity doesn't seem to faze him in the least but your breath's caught in your throat and you don't know where to put your eyes.

He's so diligently taking care of you and all you can do is allow your mental state to decay like he can do anything to help you. Your head is spinning and a dull ache settles at the back. When have you become so soft-hearted? The military division you're in is supposed to have the opposite effect on you, so why?

You feel so incredibly fragile. Levi could do as he wished, relieve his sadist streak on you right about now with no retaliation and despite the number of times of you two have bumped heads, the beckoning devil in front of you is ever so tender as he cleans you up. Then again, he might simply do it with the notion in mind that all of this just adds to his seemingly impeccable record of being excellently good. At practically existing.

Well, he can use you for that. At least then what you're useful for will amount to something in the very end. Or so you hope.

* * *

You don't realise you've fallen asleep until you're woken up by the sound of a tray being settled down on the desk of the room. Opening your eyes, you shout as you're startled by the unfamiliar face. A nurse? Head whipping around, you see Levi nowhere and assuming that your wide eyes give away your thoughts, the woman stands almost defensively but with a tender smile gracing her tiers. "I'm only here to deliver the medicine prescribed by doctor Hillsbery. Make sure you take them on time before and after every meal."

The woman leaves without another word and you have about two seconds for yourself when Jean, Sasha and Connie are trotting through your door at full speed. And all three simultaneously throw themselves onto you, which makes you grunt as you're crushed by the howling and very melodramatic trio.

For the first time in days, you manage to let out a laugh as they overwhelm you with their love. Your arms wrap around the three of them as best as you manage and they further cuddle into you. Sasha lifts her head, tears and snot dribbling down her face and you can't help the girlish, little giggles. "I thought I'd never see you again!" She wails, dropping her head back against your shoulder. "I thought I'd never get to share my pan with anybody ever again! And whose food would I take then!?" Her laments are met with no mercy from Connie.

"You say that as if you wouldn't just try to steal Mikasa's or something," the young man retorts and you continue laughing as Jean agrees without a second thought. They both lounge on top of you even when the Lance Corporal strides in, clad in his uniform as per usual and you're relieved to see him. Despite the fact that he looks less than amused to see people all over you, knowing the state of your body, his comrades, instead of getting off of you, they snuggle further into you. Jean's possessive arm slinking around your waist as Sasha clings to your leg and Connie's hugging your head.

" **Tch**. You damn brats are going to end up suffocating her at this rate, you've seen her a few days ago."

"That's easy to say when you've been seeing her day in, day out, squad commander." Jean _tuts_ , and you swear his embrace gets a little tighter. You wonder if, after all this time, he still has a little crush on you. But for once, being held so constrictive relaxes you and the safe haven that's Jean's arms for you completely melt your worries and woes away, making you cuddle up further into him. Connie scoffs playfully. "Okay, **lovebirds** , have Sasha and I just third wheeling for you, huh?"

You hear a displeased noise of disapproval coming from a particular raven. Ever so peculiar. If he doesn't like PDA, there's a door for him to walk out of and then return when these three are gone.

"Connie! No!" You gasp but he completely ignores your giggled protests as he smushes your face right into his chest, making you laugh out loud as you try to breathe through it all. Sasha rubs her cheeks against your leg like a cat and you don't even know what's going on anymore, hearing Levi defeatedly sigh at the other side of the room. Guessing that for him they are too much to handle at times, you watch him briefly as he simply leans against the threshold of the door with his arms crossed over his torso and allows them to do as they please. Only for a little while.

Sasha jumps up excitedly but that's quickly diffused when she hits her head against the upper bed's slats, the reaction from the guys instantly as they point and laugh at her like there's no tomorrow. That's going to leave some sort of bruise for sure unless it's atypical for others to bruise like paper like you seemingly did. The brunette rubs her head, looking as if she's about to cry at any second again and you can't exactly blame her. You would console her a little bit, had it not been for the human trap that you're in between Connie and Jean. Lifting herself successfully onto her feet without hitting her head once again in the process, she saunters over close to where the captain is standing and retrieves a fairly large bag before she hands it to you.

The guys let go of you ever so reluctantly, the three of them helping you sit up as the bag remains in your lap and you peer inside, looking at the contents. Tilting your head with a questioning gaze in your eyes, Connie grins. "Gifts," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "So you get better," Sasha cheers from beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder and Jean putting his arms around you. Your hands move on their own as not three, no, you haven't forgotten about your superior supervising these three, but four pairs of eyes are on you. The first thing you fish out is wrapped daintily in a small, delicate bag. A ribbon to adorn, you pull at the strings and it unlaces. You reach inside and pull out a necklace, what you can only assume is silver.

Glittering crimson catches your eye and you look at the droplet that hangs so delicately, realising just what this is. "No! I can't- This is- Who!?" With wide eyes, you look between the three of them before your gaze wanders to the ever so stoic Levi who indicates with solely his eyes that he has nothing to do with this. Sasha takes the pendant from your hands and puts it around your neck. "It's a present from the three of us. You've worked so hard from the beginning, you've put your blood, sweat and tears into the Survey Corps despite not being the strongest when it comes to physique and health. You've stayed with us and you've pushed through the missions, and even right now you're still standing. You're like the meal we get at the end of the day."

"Can't you do anything without mentioning food for once?" Jean deadpans.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she has mush for brains." The corporal sits down on the chair, crossing his legs over one another.

"Squad leader!? Is it pick on Sasha Day!?"

As they bicker, one by one you pull out the items in sheer wonder and joy. Most of them are foods of sorts, probably because they worry you're not eating plenty. A fond smile curves your lips as you look at them. Triple Crown Apricot Jam, luxury dried meats, rare sweets, different types of bread, teas of at least three different kinds—a certain someone probably hammered into them not to get you coffee and this was the result—and all other sorts of edible goodies that you can't wait to taste test over the course of the coming days. And as if that isn't enough, the three of them gathered one last time to get you three new shirts and two new skirts. With a roundabout way of explaining why, but you didn't need them to. They were so mindful of everything, it genuinely touched your heart.

You blame it on being in a sensitive place with your mind right now as tears prickle in your eyes and the lot of them huddle to hug you again. For everything that's worth, you've never had been gifted anything. The only happiness and fulfilment in your life prior to the Survey Corps was keeping a small huddle of orphans alive, who've been abandoned by irresponsible parents. So for you to receive something in something... different, to say the least, and nothing can express your gratitude towards your peers.

"When you're all better, make sure to wear them. All four of us can go on a horse riding adventure within the walls," the ash blond says. You nod quietly, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Thank you, guys. Really. Not just for the presents but for being here for me and everything...," you quietly mumble, heaving a much-needed sigh of alleviation.

"Of course we are. That's what friends are for. Much like Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, we're a team. Of four instead of three, but that just means it's merrier with us." A hand comes to rest on top of your head, giving you a ruffle and Connie gives you a cheeky grin. You can't really protest that.

"Visiting hours are gonna be over in fifteen minutes so you runts better get your sentiments over with. Training is still in session for the three of you." Ah, yes. Levi and his bitterness cutting in through the pleasant atmosphere, making your friends sigh simultaneously. You pity them. Having days off doesn't mean that you get to do nothing unless you go back home. Sadly, these three have no homes to go back to so they busy themselves with training and other individual tasks.

While you've never been forced to attend training daily, you were assigned different tasks in aiding your superiors. Collecting information on the status and usage of the contrivances, checking the food storage and passing on what needed to be stacked on, stable duty, cleaning duty, assistance with materials for the Training Corps, and the list really is just never-ending. Not to mention your weekly check-ups with the doctor to make sure your body wasn't deteriorating quicker than necessary. Which it didn't, thankfully, you even managed to build up some muscles.

Turning to your left where the girl's sitting, you cup her cheek farthest from you and plant a big smooch on the other. You do the same to Jean and lean over to give Connie one of the same. "You guys should get going. It's always a better look when you're a bit earlier. You can always come to visit me when you have more free time, it's not as if I'm gonna be allowed to budge from where I am at least until the bruises have completely faded."

Their faces are priceless, but they do nod. Helping you put the presents in your closet and on the desk as they stand up, they salute Levi and bid their goodbyes to you a couple of times over. He lingers, taking off his jacket and cravat. Directing his stone cold gaze at you, his sonorous voice rings in your ears but it's not displeasing.

"Tell me the nurse helped you shower or something?"

"Uh, no. I think I kind of scared her away. She did come in earlier this mornin' but she left the medicine there and just told me that I should take them with my dinner... or something."

He sighs so exasperatedly that it almost makes you scared of having given the wrong answer.

"Do I have to do everything my **damn** self?" And before you can get another word in, he's out the door.

Uh?

* * *

The next couple of weeks are spent like that, at the mercy of Levi as he slowly but surely nurses you back to health with some help of the nurses and when Hange comes around to pay a visit, it's very evident that he's indeed been passing down the progress information to her because she knows every single detail on how you're doing.

Your panic attacks lessen but they never really leave, but that in and of itself is considered a sign of recovery. Your sleeping schedule also evens out bit by bit, and with these changes, you're transferred back to your old room and Levi's absence becomes less as well. You hate to admit to it, but it dismays you. Between the trio of friends, the nurse, and the Lance Corporal, you've grown so used to being surrounded constantly that being alone for even just a few hours feels strange.

You're no longer bed bound, the bruises are gone, and although you're still on medication, you've started walking around again. You can do things for yourself but the doctor isn't so sure how much your body can hold out for the day after what happened. He's told you, your lifestyle has taken a drastic turn the second you were plucked from the Underground city, too sudden for your body to be able to integrate it into its operating system. You need to take it slow because between your initial experience in change and the horrible happenings recently have taken a toll on you and it's not for the better.

Well, you don't mind.

You've showered in the morning, now sitting on your bed as you comb your hair. Today is your first day going outside as you promised Sasha when she last came about that you're ready to take that horse ride with them as they mentioned. Taking an elastic, you're about to simply curl it into a bun but what if... what if _two_ buns?

Looking in the mirror, you swear to God that you've never looked this feminine. It doesn't bother you, though, you guess it's girls such as Kri- No, Historia having rubbed off on you at some point. You prod the two buns sitting on top of your head, unsure how to feel. They look parts girlish, parts childish. Well, you're not about to undo them now.

Investigating your face, you notice the very faint freckles along the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. When did that happen? That's where you often get sunburned during the hot seasons so you deduct that it has some correlation.

Putting the silver and ruby necklace around your neck, you clasp it closed. Sitting on the chair, you slip on your black shoes. You look similar to a creature of lore. Vampires? Your top is black, your skirt is black, your shoes are black, and the ruby glitters blood crimson against your skin. Not to mention the unusual hairstyle. Well, they can suck it, you look good. Those creatures are supposed to look ugly and you're, well, not, easily put.

With long strides, you walk out of your room as you shut and lock the door behind you. Feet faintly tapping along the ligneous flooring, you think about how many times you've walked these halls. For how many reasons?

You're in your thoughts, finally happy to be able to wander around by yourself. The commanders don't have anything to worry about since your friends are quite the elite soldiers, so they know you're in safe hands. You're humming a nameless song, lost in your own mind before you're jolted straight out of them by the sight of the Corporal coming from the opposite direction. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and you're suddenly all too aware of what you're wearing and what you look like and the carefully built confidence seems to slowly fade.

It's such a strange feeling and you lower your head, not knowing what to do with yourself.

You pass him as quickly as you can but you feel the fire his gaze leans in its wake all over your clothed skin and you feel like you're on fire. You don't know whether he glared or not but your chest is tight and your cheeks are warm and your head is swimming with thoughts you're not sure are categorised as intrusive but... some part of you wants to hear his opinion on what you look like today. A little bit more dolled up than you would usually go for.

As you walk outside, catching chatter of other troopers about the next expedition months ahead from now, you walk your merry way to the stalls, the place where you agreed to meet. And indeed, there they are when you arrive. There's one, two, three-

"Is someone missing?" You chirp up, peering as you come closer. But no, you count three heads.

And they also look very confused.

"What makes you think that...? Have you gone blind!?"

"No, Connie. There are three horses and four people, **dimwit** ," you laugh and he offers a sheepish grin before he returns to gently threading the mane of his horse with his fingers. Jean shakes his head, motions for you to wait where you are, and when he returns, you're shooting into a justified panic. The male's holding the black leather and attached to the corresponding net relief muzzle net is the midnight black stallion with sapphirine eyes that you instantly recognise as Levi's and you know that that is abso-fucking-lutely off-limits for the lot of you. Especially you serving at a lower rank than the elites, you shouldn't even be looking at the blinding beauty.

"Squad leader commanded you take him, in case of danger, the horse's trained to find his way back here," Jean says flat and for some reason, you believe him. Not because it's probably not entirely in the good mind of Levi to lend you his horse, but because as long as he's been around, so has this fucking stallion. Like owner, like pet?

That said.

It's a tall fucking animal, how does the shrimp get on it?

You struggle to get your foot into the stirrup in the first damn place but once you manage, the docile animal stays completely still as you sit down as comfortably as you can in a skirt. Once everyone's up and ready to go, despite the fact that you're not so sure about riding a horse what you assume to be is so expensive. You give it little pats and strokes on the head out of sheer appreciation for it, cooing a couple of times before you hear Jean snort and Sasha telling you that it is, in fact, not food.

And as the four of you set off with the harras, you feel as if you're being watched, just from behind you a lingering gaze on the small of your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY. Sorry for the wonky upload schedule. The research I do to be able to write the final version of the chapters has been immense lately which is why they take some more time. Please deal with it however you want. (｡･ω･｡)
> 
> First things first: I MADE AN ANIME-ORIENTED-ISH DISCORD SERVER, SO IF YOU WANNA JOIN...: [**ANIWHORES**](https://discord.gg/aCy9AxH) (yes, that's what the server's called, LMAO). Just click the link to open the invite.
> 
> That out of the way!!
> 
> I really, really wanna do something close to like "Desideratum on Crack" on the unfinished compilation or something but it would be a short chapter. I lowkey have an idea but now I gotta get to writing it yet that would mean delay in chapter 11. And for the people who follow my story and _This Doesn't Usually Happen_ by the lovely DesertRose07 (I'm sorry if that's wrong, it's from the top of my head), I wanna do a lil' sum'n sum'n but I need their approval first. (｡◝‿◜｡)
> 
> For anybody who doesn't know and doesn't want to Google why Levi specifically gave her Darjeeling First Flush: in Tea Land, First Flush is the very first leaves of the evergreen bush. It's considered the luxury champagne equivalent of teas. It's very, very precious, tasty, and _expensive_. So, in his own way, Levi's spoiling the reader a little.
> 
> AND IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO ISABEL IS... WATCH THE OVA.
> 
> Anyway. My past week has been so uneventful but I've been watching anime together with the peeps over in the Discord server and it was fucking amazing. Also made one of my friends, Yna, watch the first 13 episodes of AOT in one sitting, poor girl. Also, voice calls. Lots of 'em. All in all, good times. (◕‿◕✿)
> 
> Have a good rest of the week, babies!
> 
> EDIT: I JUST REALISED I RELEASED THIS ABOUT A MONTH AND TEN DAYS AGO AND I ALREADY HAVE TEN CHAPTERS, OOF.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a slow burn fiction, as stated in the tags, and by slow, it will be excruciatingly so! So keep that in mind. If you're here for Levi to be head-over-heels for the reader in the span of 3 chapters, this isn't for you! The hate will have to build up first, meaning it'll go through phases of escalation.
> 
> Something else to keep in mind, when it gets to that point, this will include a lot of hardcore kinks. Again, if that's not your thing, then this really isn't for you.


End file.
